Lost Somewhere in Between
by Nahaliel
Summary: Nick and Hank, with help from Monroe, investigate the kidnapping of sixteen year old girl; their first case in a while that doesn't involve Wesen. But Nick finds out the hard way things are never as they seem. Old friends and memories resurface, and suddenly this case ends up hitting much closer to home than he would have liked. Lots of Nick whump, angst.
1. Chapter 1

_**Hello all. Starting my second multi-chaptered Grimm story. A couple warnings before: angst, **__**whump/h/c to come, **__**violence. But also lots of our favorite Grimm (well...duh), Monroe, Hank, Renard and even some Wu. **__**This story is dedicated to LittleBounce. Thank you so much for all your support. Couldn't have done it without you. ;) **__**Hope you all enjoy.**_

* * *

The quiet, tentative knock on the door that morning almost goes unheard. Last night was a peaceful one, the restless dreams having abated for the first time in weeks, and Nick slept for a good eight hours straight. It's the first time he woke without the last images of her pale face and fiery hair burning in the back of his retina.

The coffee smells particularly good this morning, filling the wood-paneled kitchen with its heady aroma. He's in a good mood, strangely. Maybe not so strangely. He's moving on. That would be good. Refreshing. He needs to start living again.

The knock comes again, a bit louder this time.

"Coming," Nick calls through a mouthful of bagel, replacing his steaming coffee mug on the counter and gliding to the front door. He pulls it open and nearly chokes.

That's a face he never thought he'd see again. Holy shit.

Hank would always joke about his unreadable poker face, how that was the only thing Nick could ever beat him at. He's pretty sure right now Hank would be laughing, and that he's nowhere near keeping a straight face, his jaw is probably hanging open, eyebrows fighting from a frown to confusion.

"Hi," she says hesitantly, blinking rapidly a couple of times.

"Shaena?" it comes out somewhat strangled, but she doesn't seem to take notice. Those green eyes—god he remembers them so well - are slightly bloodshot, and her forehead is creased into a worried line. He frowns. She looks so…scared. Why?

"I need…" she stops, bottom lip trembling a little; she takes a deep breath, starts again, "I need your help."

Still recovering from the shock of her being there, inches away from him, on his doorstep, Nick fumbles for the right words. She needs help; he's a cop. Okay, invite her in.

"Why don't you come in?" he offers, stepping to the side. She nods, a bit shakily, and enters.

Nick closes the front door, leans back heavily against it, and gives himself four seconds to panic internally. Ok, ok, ok - no big deal, the girl you never should have walked away from just showed up on your doorstep after six years… You can do this.

"Have a seat," he says finally, after a deep breath, and gestures toward the couch. She sinks down onto it, exhaustedly.

"Hey… Shaena, what happened to your arm?" Nick's frowning again, as he sits down beside her and carefully picks her right arm up. The sleeve of her jacket is torn, in a clean, blood stained rip.

"I… I just…" she stops and shakes her head, brown hair falling into her eyes.

Nick gently peels her jacket off her and rolls her sleeve up. She winces; he apologizes. There's a long gash along her upper arm, going straight across—a graze, evidently made by a bullet.

"Shaena," he tries again; she's staring at her feet. "Shae." She looks up at this.

"I need your help, Nick."

"Who did this to you?"

"It's a long story…" she whispers.

Nick looks at his watch; he has to be at the precinct in fifteen minutes. This is crazy. Shaena Scott. In his living room. Jesus—he never thought he'd see her again. Wished it would happen? Every day for years after he left… He has no idea why she needs his help, but he's going to find out. An odd tightening in his chest, nostalgically familiar, builds up slightly.

"C'mon," he says quietly, offering Shaena his hand. "Let's get that arm checked out, and you can stay at the precinct until the end of my shift."

She looks so relieved, it's almost painful.

. . . . . . . .

Nick tries not to stare. Shaena watches the road before them, arms folded tightly against her. Her whole body is tense, yet there's an exhausted slump in her shoulders.

Her face is the same. Still as beautiful as before; the long eyelashes, the penetrating green gaze, the perfectly drawn lips, the vivid memory of them burning hot and soft against his own, his neck, his waist…

Nick clears his throat. _Get a grip. _He catches Shaena's eye, and she gives him a faint, tired smile, straightening in her seat.

"I'm sorry. About earlier. Was feeling a little… shaken."

"It's okay… But Shaena, I have to know what's going on to be able to do anything."

* * *

Hank had been persistent, to say in the least. They'd been at their desks for most of the morning, leaving him plenty of time to badger Nick about the good looking chick sitting in break room, until Nick had coolly snapped that she was his ex, _end of story_, and Hank had finally understood he really didn't want to talk about it just yet. It was all still a bit too uncomfortable.

He makes Shaena a cup of tea. He needs a beer after a long, tiring day at the precinct and relentless images of Shaena's face stuck on repeat in his mind: pale and terrified on his doorstep that morning; and so, so hurt and betrayed that day he left without turning back so many years ago.

It looks like she's not going to start up the conversation, or can't. Nick takes a swig from his beer, then another, trying to find the right way to start. This is so awkward.

"How did you hurt your arm like that?"

"Do you remember Lily?" Shaena blurts out, ignoring his question. Nick's a little taken aback.

"Uh… Yeah, I do. Your little sister."

"My baby sister…" Shaena says quietly, setting the still steaming mug of tea on the coffee table. She looks so pained as she searches for words that Nick almost wants to hold her again, all the while thoroughly confused by the powerful old feelings resurfacing.

"Grayson. You remember, my stepbrother? He took her, Nick. He took her because I saw something I shouldn't have." That's new. Shaena hadn't always been so direct. He likes it.

Nick pulls his cell phone out, thumb on the speed dial for Hank's number, grateful it's the one night he's on duty late. Keep her talking... He prompts gently, "What did you see, Shaena?"

Shaena brings a shaking hand to her mouth. She'd always been so strong; Nick had seen her break on extremely rare occasions. Whatever she's been dragged into, it's got to be serious.

"These men… were telling him to kill someone. But it was like it wasn't the first time. Why would he do that? I had doubts about some things, after he left, I knew he wasn't hanging with the best crowd but… this?"

Kidnapping, murder… Nick had met Grayson once, when he'd stopped by to see Shaena one night at her dorm. The guy was a real prick, from what Nick had gathered; cold, manipulative. But not to such an extreme degree. He'd got an odd vibe about the guy when he'd brushed past him, a heavy sense of dread, an underlying violence, but hadn't thought much of it. Grayson had left home for good shortly after Shaena moved out for college. She didn't talk to Nick about him much, it seemed like a difficult subject for her, and her stepmom, Rebecca.

"He came to my apartment… Last night, around 7. He didn't say it directly. It was a warning, though. That if I told anyone about it … he'd…" Shaena leans back heavily against the couch cushions, gingerly positioning her bandaged arm.

"Is he the one that hurt you?" Something ugly unfurls in the back of Nick's mind; intent, angry.

"No. One of his friends did. He broke into my apartment. Tried to…shoot me. I got away. And drove here. " She finishes quietly, blinking heavily.

"From California?" She nods. No wonder she looks exhausted. She was probably too scared to stop much. Nick places a quick call to Hank. He says he'll set up an amber alert, and run things by Renard in the morning. By the time he hangs up, Shaena has already dropped off on the couch, head tipped back over the cushions.

He used to spend hours watching her sleep.

Nick gently grasps her shoulders and lays her down flat on the couch; he pulls off her shoes, slides a pillow under her head and opens a blanket over her.

A feeling of relief, foreign and so new fills him; he never thought he'd see her again, but every day lingered in the very back of his mind the hope that he would, even if it were just once more.

* * *

The doorbell rings at roughly midnight, breaking Monroe's concentration over a particularly delicate clock he'd been working tirelessly on for the whole evening. Grumbling under his breath, he trudges over to the front door and doesn't even need to check who it is. Partially because he recognizes the scent, but also: who else would be ringing his doorbell at this time of night?

"Hey, Monroe," Nick says quietly, hands stuffed in his jacket pockets. He looks dazed. "Sorry. It's a little late."

"A little late? Really?"

Nick shifts uncomfortably, making a little red light go off briefly in the back of Monroe's mind.

"Could we… You got a minute?"

Monroe sighs resignedly and steps aside to let his friend in. "C'mon." Nick nods gratefully and makes his way into the kitchen.

"Oh boy," Monroe mutters, following him. Nick is leaning against the counter, looking… unsure. Monroe swings the door to the fridge open and grabs two beers.

"Ok, let's have it. What's got you so stunned? Is it Jägerbars?" Nick shakes his head. "No, so maybe Lowen?" Not Lowen either. Ok; what the hell is it, then?

Nick lets out a long sigh. "It's my ex."

Oh.

Monroe retrieves the bottle of scotch from the cabinet next to the fridge as well. Nick had been a sorry sight after Juliette left for good. Even Monroe had wondered when or if he'd pull out of it. But that was a while ago. He seemed like he was really moving on. "Listen... It's been nearly a year already… You've gotta stop thinking about Juliette, man."

Nick gives him a strange look. "Not her. My _other_ ex."

Monroe feels his eyebrows jump to his hairline. Huh? This is new. The scotch can stay in the kitchen.

"Ok, with me." He slaps a beer into Nick's palm and guides him into the living to sit on the couch. "_Who_?"

Nick wipes a hand down his face and takes a swig. "Before Juliette… There was someone else. Shaena. We met in college." He shakes his head, eyes wide, like he doesn't even believe what he's saying. "I haven't seen her in six years."

Whoa. Where the hell is this revelation coming from? Nick looks uncharacteristically distracted, rolling the bottle between his hands. Monroe has known Nick with Juliette, and Nick _without_ Juliette, that those are two separate people. Shaena's reappearance seems to have brought a considerable amount of conflicting feelings to the surface again. Whoever she is.

"So… What happened with you guys?"

Nick runs a hand through his hair. "We just… When I got accepted to the police academy, I had to make a choice. I could stay or… go. She couldn't come with me. Didn't want to. At the time she couldn't leave her little sister: Lily was her priority." He looks pained. "Shae's mom was a cop. She was killed in the line of duty… She didn't want that kind of weight on her shoulders again. With me."

Monroe takes a long sip from his beer. "You guys were close?"

"Yeah," Nick whispers, "You could say that." Monroe stares hard at his friend. So he and this Shaena were really close and she ended it. Then why all the guilt? It's rolling off of Nick in waves, an overpowering, earthy tang.

He looks lost in thought for a moment, then gives a sad sort of laugh, "I used to know exactly what I was going to say to her, if I ever saw her again. But now—" A phone ringing cuts him off; Nick swears under his breath and leans back against couch cushions, digging his phone out of his pocket.

"Burkhardt," his tone is clipped and professional, letting Monroe know it's probably work related. But then Nick's face relaxes. "Shaena? You okay? Yeah, I'll be back. I just stepped out real quick. Ok, ok. I'll be there in a few."

He hangs up, and stands, finishing off his beer in one gulp. "I've got to go. Thanks for… the beer. And listening."

Sure, their five minute chat was quite enlightening.

"Yeah, dude. You were talking my ears off there," Monroe snorts, "I never thought you'd shut up!" Ah, finally. A real Nick-grin. The guy was starting to look like someone died…

Wait a sec.

"Hey, Nick?" he calls back, following him out to his car.

"Hmm?"

"Why did she come back? After all these years?"

Nick sighs, shoulders tensing slightly. Something other than Shaena's reappearance is really worrying him. "Right before she left for college, Shae's stepbrother walked out on them. They never heard from him again: he never called, never came back. Last night, he took Lily… Because of something Shaena saw. She needs my help finding her."

Monroe watches Nick drive off, his familiar scent still lingering in the air, mixed with the more bitter ones of fear and anxiety. Something just doesn't click. Why would she come back to Nick for something like this, instead of going to any random police station for help? Yeah, Nick's a good cop and yes, they're apparently very familiar with each other… but still. An odd feeling of dread uncoils in the pit of Monroe's stomach. He dismisses it, and slinks back into the house. There's an antique clock still screaming for his attention and magic hands.

* * *

_TBC_


	2. Chapter 2

_**Thank you to those who took the time to review, favorite and/or follow. Means a lot. I was asked when Nick and Juliette broke up in this: following the timeline of the show, they broke up a little before "Woman in Black" (1x22). Extra brownie points to LittleBounce ;) Hope you all enjoy.**_

* * *

Nick stifles a jaw-cracking yawn as he sits in the parking lot of Shaena's motel. His brain had completely refused to shut up last night, leaving him to relive yesterday over and over again, as well as random events from six years before. Around 5, he'd been provided with some respite, and dozed fitfully until his alarm blared in his ears an hour later. All in all, not a very restful night.

Through the windshield, he watches the door to room 201 swing open and Shaena walks out. She locks it and slowly makes her way down the stairs toward his car. She slides into the passenger seat, looking… rested.

"Good morning," she greets. Nick hands over the second coffee cup sitting on the dash. A hint of milk, no sugar.

"Thank you." She takes a sip. "You remembered." She smiles fully at him, and he's still surprised by how much he's never forgotten.

Nick clears his throat and starts up the car, pulling back out onto the street. "I'd like you to meet a friend of mine today. It would be safer for you to hang with him when I'm away from the precinct than at the motel by yourself."

Shaena nods. "Is he a cop?"

"No. He's a… consultant. I think you two will get along just fine, though."

The rest of the drive is quiet, Nick shooting occasional glances over at Shaena. She actually seems much calmer than yesterday, energized.

Nick pulls up in front of Monroe's house and switches off the engine. Through the living room window, he catches sight of Monroe ambling around with his glasses on and holding something in his hands that he can't quite make out.

"Quaint little place," Shaena remarks, as he leads up to the front porch and knocks on the door.

"By quaint, you mean the overgrown shrubbery and peeling paint?"

Shaena grins, looking slightly embarrassed. "That is _not_ what I meant. I was referring to the… small cottage sort of look, with the miniature porch, the old fashioned mailbox…"

Nick just laughs, earning himself a gentle smack on the arm.

Then the door swings open, revealing Monroe, all flannel and corduroy pants, wearing a mildly exasperated look.

"I'll just say because you won't: good morning to you, Nick. Yes, I slept well, thank you," he quips, then notices Shaena. "Oh. Hi."

Nick's eyes widen as the nature of the strange object Monroe is holding at his side dawns on him: it's the Reaper's scythe he'd given him to study a few weeks ago. He gestures urgently behind Shaena; Monroe finally gets the point and quickly stows it behind his back.

Nick wipes a hand down his face, because _really_? "Monroe… This is Shaena."

They shake hands awkwardly.

"Um. So… You guys want to come in for a while?"

Nick nods, and lets Shaena head into the kitchen first, leaving Monroe and him a few seconds to glare at each other on the doorstep.

"A little warning next time you decide to bring some random person over to my house?" Monroe drops the scythe into the umbrella holder by the door.

Nick splutters for a few seconds, shaking his head, then snaps back,"Who the hell answers the door with something like that in their hand?"

"Ok, Nick," Monroe grinds his teeth and flings the door shut behind them, "What can I do for you?"

"Good morning, Monroe. I'm glad you slept well," Nick teases. "I need you to do me a favor."

"We both know how me doing favors for you ends, right?"

Nick holds his gaze. "This is different. Shaena needs protection, but we don't have enough on the case to qualify yet. She can stay with me as long as I'm at the precinct, but I can't take her out on the field. Would you mind if she stayed here during those times? I really need your help on this."

He pauses thoughtfully, wrinkles his nose and then drags out, "Pleeeease?"

Monroe sighs, but acquiesces. "Kinda weird, huh? You asking for my help on case where there are no Wesen involved."

Nick just grins and shakes his head, joining Shaena in the kitchen.

"So, you're a consultant for the police department?"

Monroe gives Nick a stony look.

"Yes, you could say that. Occasionally I'll help Nick with cases he's not able to wrap his head around."

* * *

Less than an hour later it seems, Monroe's phone rings, Nick's number popping up on the screen.

"I'm going to need that favor now," Nick says by way of greeting.

"Bring her over."

Nick pulls up in front of the house, and then just like that, the Grimm's ex-ex-girlfriend is sitting on his couch. Monroe shifts uncomfortably. He kind of hates Nick right now. Then he notices Shaena is fidgeting too.

"You... have a nice house," she deadpans. Then looks down at her hands in her lap, rolling her eyes at herself.

Monroe hides a smile. "Thank you. Would you like some coffee?"

"Sure. Thanks."

When he comes back into the living room with the steaming mugs, Shaena has taken her coat off, and is admiring the antique Kieninger grandfather clock that stands in the corner by the window.

She looks genuinely impressed. "This is beautiful—they're all beautiful."

Finally, some appreciation for horology. _Hands off_ appreciation; not the way Nick fiddles with everything in sight.

"So you're a clock maker and a police consultant...?"

His smile feels a bit forced this time. "Sure...thing."

She smiles too, unforced. "How's that going for you?"

Monroe quirks an eyebrow. "Just fine… Well, you know Nick." She laughs quietly. Knowingly.

Monroe finds his grin again and hands her a steaming mug of coffee as they both regain their end of the couch.

"So you're from San Francisco?"

She nods. "Ever been?"

Once. One of his fonder memories. "Is that where you and Nick met?"

"No. We went to college together in Michigan."

"I'm really sorry to hear about your sister..." That was awkward. Gosh, that makes it sound like she just got kicked out of school, not got herself brutally kidnapped. He swallows, and takes a swig of coffee to wash the taste of 'blurt' down his throat. He moves quickly to common grounds. "Nick's a good cop, you know."

Something changes in her eyes. "He's stubborn, that's for sure." She laughs quietly at this. "But that also means he won't give up unless he's done _everything_."

Shaena stares straight ahead and nods. She's hard to read. Then she turns back to Monroe, eyes bright. Intense.

"Lily was only four when our mom died, but she knew exactly what was going on. My dad remarried, and my step-mom was a wonderful mother figure for her, but most of the time it would be just me and Lil. College was really long without her. I mean, Nick was there..." she stops, looking lost somewhere between now and then. "But I still felt responsible for her. My mom was so strong. I wanted Lil to still have that."

He could see how Nick and her got along. Though that was before the Grimm thing. He's dying to ask the question. "You and Nick..." He clears his throat. "What happened?"

Regret. That's what he senses first. "We'd been having some problems. He'd always told me he was going to be a cop. I knew that what he wanted to do, that was his goal. That didn't make me like the idea any better. When he got accepted to the police academy, we started discussing our options. He could stay. I could go. I remember part of me wanted nothing more than to just go with him, but Lily was only ten at the time…"

Shaena runs a hand across her forehead, as if trying to smooth over the frown building up there.

"The night before he was due to leave, we got into a big fight. I said some things I shouldn't have... About his parents."

The look in her eyes tells Monroe she remembers every hurtful word she said.

"He told me my mom was gone, and that I couldn't replace her. Neither could Rebecca, but she still had the role of surrogate mother. It wasn't my job to be 'mom'."

A difficult subject for the both of them – even many years on. No wonder it tore them apart at the time.

"We went our separate ways in the end. It couldn't have worked any other way." Something in her voice tells him she never really believed that.

"Why did you come to Nick, then?" He doesn't mean to blurt it out like that, but once it's out there, he finds this has interesting results.

Shaena stares hard at him for a second. She doesn't look like she's _hiding_anything, but he can see her thinking hard. About what, he's not sure.

"He knows Lily. And he knows Grayson, my step-brother. I had to get far away from San Francisco. Look, trying to be Lil's second mom, I pushed a lot of people away, which doesn't leave me many wanting to help out today. I had no idea how Nick would react to me reappearing like this… but he's a cop. I thought I could count on that side of him."

Monroe is not convinced. She holds his gaze, unwavering, but he can smell fear all over her. This stepbrother of hers has to have taken Lily for persuasive means. Not to actually hurt her. Right?

Something else is bothering him, though. He's picking up on another emotion, something he struggles to decipher but can't quite pin down. She's not telling the whole story.

* * *

Nick and Hank trudge back up the steps to the precinct together, both soaking wet and scowling.

Wu smirks as they pass by, but the glare Hank shoots in his direction is enough for whatever snarky comment he had planned to die on his lips.

"I swear, if I catch that gerbil punk..." Hank mutters.

"Eisbieber," Nick corrects absently, dropping his wet jacket onto the back of his desk chair and sinking into it.

"I don't care what he is; he's not getting away with it. Coffee?" Hank offers, shedding his own coat and limping over to the machine.

"Thanks!" Nick calls after him and busies himself in pulling up a fresh report form on his computer screen.

A mangled body had been found deep in the forest that morning by a ranger, and they'd been the first on the scene. When they'd got there the ranger had been fending off a group of jeering kids, who not only were compromising the scene, but also had snatched the wallet attached to a silver chain off the victim.

All had bolted when Hank and Nick had stepped out of the car, except for one little guy, who'd taken one look at Nick and shifted into a kid Eisbieber with a terrified squeak. Unfortunately, he'd been the one with the wallet and chain in his hand, and instead of dropping it, he'd taken off running, knocking Hank and Nick into each other and sending them toppling to the wet forest floor. The guy was _strong_ for an Eisbieber, a young one at that, and neither Hank nor Nick had caught up with him in time to snatch back the wallet or get a statement.

He's not sure Hank would appreciate it mentioned in the report that they'd been overpowered by a teen... beaver. Nick is scratching his head over this as Hank returns with coffee, looking a little less murderous.

"So," he begins, settling back in his desk chair and wrapping both hands around his steaming mug. "Do we have any more info on the guy that tried to hurt your girl, yet?"

Nick sighs; the Eisbieber report can wait. "Her name is Shaena. She's a good friend."

"Whatever you say, man."

"And no, I haven't found anything significant yet. I'd never heard of her stepbrother's friend until now."

Hank looks thoughtful, then leans forward, grabbing his mouse and perusing the contents of his desktop for something. "I got a hit on him. Cyrus McAvoy? He's not so clean. Assault and battery... He was charged for the murder of a young girl in 2007 too, but was cleared and got to walk away."

Nick feels his stomach twist a little as he thinks of Lily's gentle, smiling face. "You got a picture?"

Hanks nods and Nick gets up to peer over his partner's shoulder. The man staring back at them from the screen has an untidy mop of dark greasy hair and beady black eyes to go with it. His face is speckled with deforming scars. One jumps out gruesomely. It looks like the skin of his neck had been ripped away on the left side, just under his jaw. The skin is scarred in a shiny, uneven circle, separate little gashes arranged around the outside of it.

"Jesus," Hank mutters. "What kind of weapon could have made a hole like that?"

Nick frowns darkly. "No. It looks more like he was attacked by some kind of animal…"

"He's closely linked to your Grayson guy: they practically grew up together. Been in the same school since kindergarten. But Grayson seems to have completely dropped off the charts after he turned twenty."

"No trace at all?" How is that even possible? The guy had been one average jerk back when Nick had met him in college, light years away from this smart, calculating sociopath he appears to be now.

"Well, sort of," Hank continues, "Rebecca Spencer, his mother, filed a missing persons report right after he disappeared." He pulls up the file, reads it quickly then raises an eyebrow. "Huh… That's weird."

"What's the matter?"

Hank points to the screen, where a small video window has opened. "There was a hit on the missing persons report just two days ago."

"Where the hell was that taken from?"

Hank looks a little unsure. "The JW Marriott hotel… In San Francisco."

The hotel where Grayson had set up his last meeting with Shaena.

* * *

_TBC_


	3. Chapter 3

_**Bonsoir à toutes et à tous... (channeling Renard, ahem). 3 is up! Hope you enjoy.**_

* * *

Shaena's phone rings at 7:23 am.

Her usual, quite colorful reaction to how late it is hangs off the tip of her tongue_, _then a glimpse around the tiny motel room brings everything flooding back. She's not late. Her internal clock is, maybe: she's up at five every day normally. But things aren't so normal anymore.

"Hello?" She sits up in bed, wedging the phone between her ear and shoulder and leaning over to flip the light on. How can it still be so dark at this time?

"Oh my god. Shaena! I called you, like, _twenty_ times!" Megan's high pitched voice assaults her right eardrum. Shaena groans internally and rubs her eyes.

"Where the hell are you? Boss is not happy. Are you okay?"

Define okay. "I'm fine, alright? Just take a breath."

"Jesus... So where are you?"

How much should she tell? How little? She'd been careful about keeping what happened with Gray to herself in life. Nick knew, but that had seemed inevitable. It wasn't something she was just going to share with anyone. Who would believe her now that the situation has escalated to this? She feels very suddenly, quite alone.

"Megan, you don't need to worry. I should have told you… and the boss. I had a bit of a… family emergency, and had to leave right away."

"Oh. Okay. You want me to tell Stanton that?" There's a slight cringe in her voice. Yeah. They both know after her disappearing like this, no matter the reason, she's not likely to get her job back.

"Yes. Tell him that. And that I'm sorry, for all the good it'll do."

"I will. Shae, you're scaring me a bit. First, you leave on some mysterious lunch date, then don't come back, _and then _you stop answering my calls!" Megan's voice drops to a dramatic whisper, and Shaena rolls her eyes, "I thought you…Y'know… had been kidnapped or something!"

Shaena finds it hard to breathe for a second. Then she forces out a quiet laugh."Nope. Nothing like that, don't you worry. It's just my… great grandmother. From Nevada. She's dying." That was smooth. Real smooth.

"Oh... I'm sorry to hear that – hell, I gotta go, Stanton's back. Take care of yourself, okay? Love you, sweetie!"

The line clicks dead before Shaena can answer. Unexpectedly, she finds herself wiping at her eyes. She could really use a friend right now. Even one as quirky as Megan, who could chirp 'sweetie' at her in the same conversation as accusing her of having been kidnapped. She shakes her head at herself. She's fine. She can do this.

Gray won't hurt Lily.

At least, that's what she's praying for.

Shaena slides back down in the bed and pulls the covers up over her head. Maybe she can pretend for just two minutes that everything is going to be okay? She'd been ten minutes early meeting Grayson at the hotel. If she hadn't rushed there, she'd never have stumbled upon the ongoing, heated conversation between him and those men… But she'd been so full of hope. It had been foolish and naïve. She'll never learn, and Gray will never change. People like him don't disappear for ten years and come back asking to start over. But she'd still believed him.

Shaena closes her eyes. Her brother – she'd always considered him her brother – hadn't even flinched when told to 'get rid of her'. Okay, Grayson had had a pretty frightening temper growing up… but _killing_ another person? She still can't get past the shock. The betrayal. The new fear.

She throws back the covers and climbs out of bed, feeling very agitated, suddenly. She glances back down at the time on her cell. Nick's due to pick her up in a little over an hour. She's got time for a run. The prospect of going for a run, albeit a much later one than usual, seems refreshing. She pulls her track pants and shoes from her bag, discarded in a corner of the small room, and pulls her hair up.

Something's missing. She rummages through the contents of her bag a second time, and finally digs out the worn gray sweater from the bottom. Nick's sweater. She still finds herself wondering why she kept it all these years. 'Cosy' stopped being an adequate excuse even weeks after they'd split. He'd draped it over her shoulders on their sixth date: she was wearing only a t-shirt and it had started pouring with rain.

It doesn't smell like him anymore. It stopped smelling of him years ago.

She pulls it over her head and steps out into the damp morning air. She'd spotted the entrance to a manmade forest trail just a few blocks to the left, and takes off at a jog in that direction. Out of sight, out of danger. For now.

* * *

Nick checks his watch again. At this rate, he's going to be late picking Shaena up. He sighs, drumming his fingers on the dash while waiting for the guy with the ridiculously tiny sports car to hurry the hell up at the gas pump.

_Finally_, the guy gets back in his car and drives away. Nick tries not the slam the door as he gets out. He's idly fiddling with his credit card as he waits for the tank to fill when a familiar voice calls his name. He turns to see Bud waiting in line behind him. The Biber gets out of his car and trots over to where Nick is standing, grabbing his hand and shaking it enthusiastically, clapping him on the back.

"Hi, Nick! How are you?"

Nick can't help but smile. "Fine, thanks. And yourself?"

Bud grins. "A new Biber family moved to Portland - the lodge is getting together to help them get settled. Mark and Denise. I'm taking care of their son for the day while they finish unpacking. Gonna show him around a bit. Oh, hey! I bet he'd love to meet you."

Nick doesn't even have time to ponder that the Grimm factor might pose a slight problem because Bud is already calling to the kid from where he's hunched over in the passenger seat of the car. "C'mon, Bridger! I want you to meet a friend of mine."

He's fourteen tops, with spiky, dark blond hair, and trudges over to them, head down, hands jammed into the pockets of his coat.

"Bridger, this is Nick."

There's an awkward silence, as the kid looks up. Nick cocks an eyebrow in recognition. Bridger's eyes go wide, he gives a little squeak, and tries to dive away. Nick easily grips a fistful of his collar and pulls him back.

"Hi. Nice to see you again." He flashes the kid a smile.

Bud looks absolutely mortified. "Nick, I'm so sorry!" he splutters, wringing his hands, "I should have warned him about you being a Grimm and all... Wait - you guys have already met?"

Bridger swallows hard, and tries to duck further into his jacket. Nick doesn't release his hold, just loosens it a bit.

"It's okay, Bud. I just want to have a little talk with him."

Nick steers the kid toward a corner of the parking lot, out of Bud's earshot.

"So you're new here?"

Bridger squeaks a little but doesn't respond, still positively quaking. Nick puts up both of his hands, palms facing outward.

"I'm not going to hurt you. I just want to understand a couple things a little better, alright?"

"It wasn't me, I promise!" Bridger woges, tugging at his shirt collar, then snaps back to human, looking up at Nick with pleading eyes. Then he digs into his pocket and pulls out the wallet and silver chain from yesterday. With trembling fingers he places them in Nick's right hand.

He feels a pang of sympathy for the kid.

"How come you took that stuff off the body? You know that was just ridiculous, right?"

"They made me."

Huh? "Who made you?"

"The two Fuchsbau from down the block. Tom and Nate."

Nick sighs. The kid just got here, and he's already hanging with the wrong crowd.

"I was gonna bring it back anyways. I just got…scared…'cause of you…"

Nick reaches out.

"Try and hang out with Bud's kids for now, how does that sound?"

Bridger nods vigorously.

"And if you find yourself nearly landing the shit for someone else again, please call me." He places his card in the kid's hand and leads him back to the car.

* * *

Nick gives Bud and Bridger a quick wave as he pulls out of the gas station and toward Shaena's motel. Already ten minutes late. He dials her number: it rings. And rings. And rings.

Ok. She's probably just in the shower.

He parks in the hotel lot and jogs up the steps. The curtains are drawn in the windows of 201; the door is locked. Nick tries Shaena's cell again. He's not worried. Naturally, she can take of herself. Telling himself this does not help the dread that builds up when she fails to answer his second call.

He has his thumb on speed dial 2 – Hank's number, when he catches sight of her in the parking lot, wearing running clothes and… his sweater.

She jogs up the steps and looks a little surprised to find him standing in front of her door.

"Hey…"

Nick lets out a curt sigh, threading his fingers through his hair in a quick, frustrated gesture. "Hi. You didn't answer my calls."

A small frown forms on her face. "I'm sorry; the time got away from me. I was just out for a run."

Nick glances at his watch. He knows there wasn't a day Shaena missed her morning run, but it's hours past the usual time. "Where? And by yourself?" He knows he sounds a bit harsh and invasive, but just three nights ago someone tried to _kill_ her.

Shaena unlocks her room and turns her back to him with a swish of long ponytail. Resolutely not looking at him, she sheds the sweatshirt and kicks off her running shoes.

He's pretty sure he blew it and that he's not going to get anything else out of her, when she turns back. Wispy strands of hair frame her face, her forehead is slightly shiny with sweat from the run. She's still breathing kind of hard.

"I'm sorry. I should have called."

Nick pinches the bridge of his nose. "That's not the issue, Shae. You can't just go out alone. You know Grayson could find you anywhere."

When she speaks, her voice is surprisingly calm and even. "I can worry about myself, Nick. I came to you so you could help me get Lily back. Not for you fret over _me_."

Nick's not too sure what to say anymore. She sighs, expression softening a bit and turning sad. "Some things never change." He grinds his teeth a little at this.

"I am not fretting over you. I became a cop for a reason, Shae. And you know that." With that he turns and heads back out to the car to cool off and breathe through the lasting effects of the adrenaline rush while she showers. He leans against the door, tipping his head back.

What had even possessed her to go out on her own like that? God. Probably the same stubbornness that she'd always had, but he'd hoped that she might rein that in a little for her own safety, if nothing else. Or…Maybe he's getting a little too worked up over this.

Come to think of it, apart from glaring at him (which Nick knows now he deserved), she'd been quite calm. Together. Shaena had never been good with spontaneous conflict. Their fights used to end with her stalking off or shutting herself in the bathroom until she was ready to come out again and talk calmly about things. Back there, however, she was different. He could tell she was mad. But reactive - not closing in on herself. Nick sighs and slides into the driver's seat. She must have had to toughen up one hell of a lot to take on the responsibility of being Lily's second mom.

By the time Shaena's ready and getting into the car next to him, he's feeling a bit more rational about the whole issue. And maybe a little embarrassed. She looks like she's calmed too.

Nick takes a deep breath and turns to face her. "Listen: I trust you'll do what's best for you. I'm sorry for…overreacting."

Shaena looks a bit uncomfortable but nods. "I understand where you're coming from, though. Next time, I'll let you know beforehand."

End of discussion apparently... Shae had always been pretty independent. It's not something he can or wants to change.

* * *

The ride to the precinct is a quiet one.

They're greeted by Hank, who's able to make Shae smile, even laugh, and slaps a file into Nick's hand. New lead on the body from the forest. Once he makes sure she's settled, he gets straight to work, wanting to get it out of the way. He'd been constantly turning over in his mind what Hank had dug up on Grayson and Cyrus yesterday. Something just doesn't click with both of them. He feels like there's a vital piece of information missing. Whatever it is, he's going to find out.

"So this… is your life now?" Shaena's voice pulls him from the file he's absorbed in. She looks genuinely curious as she brushes her hair out of her eyes with a familiar gesture. He almost feels like smiling at the memories it brings up. Nick leans back in his desk chair, stretching out his legs in front of him.

"Pretty much." Wake up alone in the morning, drive to the precinct. Every now and then a complicated case would come in, involving Wesen, or simple, human cruelty and he'd lose himself in that for a few days, weeks. After work he gets a beer with Hank, sometimes Wu, then goes home, climbs into bed. Alone.

Shaena has that look on her face again. The one that always used to make him want to wrap his arms around her and never let go. So caring, full of understanding, when all she'd done is read the lines in his face. God, she was so damn good at that. She still is.

"You weren't always alone, were you?" she asks, voice dropping to a quieter tone. Nick shakes his head slowly. They'll sit down and talk about this in due time. They need to talk about this. The hurt is still there, in both of them, he can tell, just under the surface and waiting for the other to finally make it heal. Or move on. Nick feels a brief but deep and hollow pang of loss, something he hasn't felt in a very long time, not even when Juliette moved out. The crushing, empty feeling in his chest that wouldn't go away on sleepless nights for years after he left Shaena. Moving on? He's suddenly not sure he's ready for that.

A cellphone rings. Nick checks his, out of habit; Shaena digs hers out of her pocket, frowns at the number on the screen, and answers.

"Hello?"

Her shoulders stiffen, and her face pales slightly. Nick lays a hand on her knee, questioning.

She swallows hard, and mouths _Grayson._

* * *

_TBC_


	4. Chapter 4

_**On to 4... Thank you LittleBounce for your endless patience and Morena Evensong for your encouraging reviews :) So, I promised Nick whump... Hope you enjoy.**_

* * *

"Speakerphone. Keep him talking," Nick whispers, giving her knee a squeeze and gesturing for Wu to get a trace on the call. Shaena presses one of the keys on her BlackBerry with a slightly shaking hand, and sets it silently on the desk between her and Nick.

"You seem so surprised, Shaena. Why?" Grayson's cold voice comes over the line. "Don't tell me you thought I'd never find you."

She takes a deep breath. "I didn't expect you to be here so soon. That's all. How is Lily, Grayson?"

Nick is impressed by her calm.

"Don't you worry about her. I'd like to see you. Fresh start. Considering the way our last meeting went."

"That depends only on you, Gray."

There's a pause on the other end of the line; Nick wonders what Shaena's use of her stepbrother's childhood nickname triggered for him.

"I'll be in touch. Oh, and Shaena. Say hi to Nick for me." There's the click of Grayson hanging up, then the dial tone fills their ears.

"Wu?" Nick calls.

The sergeant hurries over, a little flustered but smiling. "Cut it kind of close, but we got a location: an abandoned industrial plant, off the NW Fremont Bridge."

"Thanks, Wu," Nick gives him a nod, then turns his attention back to Shaena. "What exactly happened at the hotel?"

Shaena puts a hand to her forehead, closing her eyes. "It happened so fast. I overheard a conversation I never should have."

"Shae - I need to know about this 'conversation'." Because he knows that's an understatement.

For a couple of seconds, she looks scared. Terrified, even. "Those men wanted him to get rid of me and then 'finish the job'," She meets his gaze and holds it. "Look, Gray got into some dangerous things when he left… And clearly hadn't shaken them off yet when I agreed to meet up with him. I tried to get away without him seeing me, but he did… I started running and didn't look back."

What could she have possibly done to make them want her dead?

"He might have Lily with him, Nick. You have to send someone out there to find him."

"If there's one thing I get right in my life, it's my job," he begins, "I'll spare you the usual 'we're doing everything we can speech and tell you this **- **I will find Lily and bring her home safe to you."

Shaena's eyes glisten a fraction more, but she gives him a half smile. She reaches out for his hand, and he takes it, returning the soft squeeze.

* * *

"Can I come with you?" Shaena asks, as Nick pulls up in front of his house. No. Anything could happen, you could get hurt…

"He's dangerous. Stay at the house. I'll have Monroe swing by." Shaena nods, staring straight ahead for a few seconds, pensive. Then she opens the door and hops out of the car, throwing a glance down each side of the road. Nick watches her pause on the porch, keys in the lock and turn around. She gives him a small wave and disappears into the house, door sliding shut behind her.

He pulls out his phone and is halfway through a 'lock the door' text when it buzzes, and one from Shaena pops up. '_Already done'. _

Nick smiles to himself, relaxing a bit knowing she's safe for now, and drives off toward the bridge. He calls Monroe.

"Nick, how you doing?" his chipper voice answers on the second ring.

"Listen, Monroe, I need you to stop by my place, check on Shaena."

There's a sigh. "Man… I have to pick Rosalee up in ten minutes."

Nick curses silently as he pulls onto the 405. Grayson will probably be waiting for him where they traced the call to, but he still needs Monroe to check on Shaena. Just in case.

"Five minutes, Monroe. That's all I'm asking."

"Alright. I'll stop by," Monroe grunts. Then he asks, "Why's this so urgent?"

"We got a location on her stepbrother. I'm going to check it out." He might as well tell all.

Before he knows it, Nick is already pulling into the deserted parking lot of the industrial plant. The drive took less than fifteen minutes. Which makes Grayson quite uncomfortably close to home.

"Tell me the 'I'm going to check it out' implies back-up," Monroe replies curtly.

Nick parks behind the warehouse they'd been able to pinpoint as the source of the trace, and turns the engine off. He gets out of the car. "I'll make the call. Will you just chill?"

He's pretty sure he hears Monroe growl on the other end of the line, "So you just went waltzing in there with no back up at all—!"

Nick is suddenly, completely oblivious to his friend's rant as the air around him goes cold, adrenaline pumping through his veins.

He can only think of one thing. Wesen. What the hell..?

"Are you even listening to me?" Monroe's voice is back.

"Gotta go," Nick cuts him off and hangs up. Pocketing his phone, he draws his gun.

* * *

The lot in back of the warehouse is empty at first glance. Nick scans the area carefully a few more times before stepping out from behind the shelter of his open car door.

The place had been abandoned many years ago and left to rot. The back door to the main hangar is open, letting a rectangular shaft of light flood into the nearly complete darkness on the inside. He sticks close to the wall and shoots a quick glance inside. It seems empty, though he can't see much. The hairs on the back of his neck stand – he's not alone. He cocks his gun.

Before he can even feel it coming, a strong hand snatches the back of his collar, yanking him out of the light and into the shadows.

"Nick," the familiar, icy voice drawls from somewhere to his left. He scrabbles to his feet. "So, you did finally become a cop."

Nick struggles to locate Grayson in the nearly complete darkness. Fuck – he's chasing shadows.

"Worth more than staying with Shaena, wasn't it?" There's no anger in the sentence, or empathy for his sister; only disgust and…hatred.

"Where's Lily, Grayson?" No answer. Then he appears in the stream of light by the door. Same build as before; strong shoulders, tall frame, long brown hair. Nick can't see his eyes, but he knows them. They're not the kind you'd forget. Cold, unforgiving. Always calculating.

"None of your concern," he growls_. _

Nick's heart sinks as Grayson's features shift, short fur rippling across his face, teeth bared in a vicious snarl. Hundjäger.

Shaena's problem just got one hell of a lot more complicated.

It's only a matter of time before—

"You're a Grimm?!" Grayson's Wesen form sharpens and his lips curl in disgust.

Nick takes an involuntary step back, gun leveled on him. "You need to come with me. Don't do something you can't take back."

There a short bark of laughter. Hollow and disturbing. "Far too late for that, Nick. Shaena's always been too curious for her own good. As for Lily… It's just too bad she had to get caught up in the middle. Collateral damage, if you will."

He disappears from the shaft of light.

Nick is acutely aware of the heavy footsteps in the gravel: he whirls around toward the sound, gun pointed in the general direction of its origin.

There's the loud crack of a gunshot. The bullet smacks into the ground inches from his feet, and the loud sound leaves him reeling in the darkness.

"Nick, you're a Grimm. You ought to know you can't win a fight like this." Too late, he realizes the voice is behind him. "What makes us so good at what we do… they never know what hit them."

Nick feels his feet go out from under him, as something blunt and hard connects with the side of his head, sending him sprawling. Momentarily stunned, the gun slips from his grasp, skidding out of reach. He'll never win like this. In those few seconds of realization and total panic, the Grimm in him comes surging forth, hyperawareness spreading through every inch of his body. He can see.

Grayson is towering over him, a gun drawn and pointed straight at his head. Nick kicks out with one leg, knocking the Hundjäger off his feet. He lunges, snatches his gun back, and pins Grayson to the ground with a forearm across his throat.

"You're coming with me," Nick says coolly, gripping a fistful of the man's collar and hauling him upright. Grayson starts to laugh, a low sound, deep in his throat that makes Nick's skin prickle.

"If only it were that easy."

Nick doesn't even have time to ponder what he means before a boot hits him squarely in the chest and sends him sprawling backwards onto the dusty floor.

It all happens so fast.

The first gunshot rings out. He jerks out of the way, and the bullet rips through the sleeve of his jacket, grazing his upper arm. Nick lifts his gun, pulls the trigger. A second pop goes off, and Grayson stumbles back a few steps, clutching his shoulder, giving Nick the time to get to his feet. The Grimm may be in control, but something is off, his brain isn't working properly. Grayson fires again—_how could he have been so unguarded? _—the bullet smacks into his chest, high up, crushing the air from his lungs. Vision whiting out, Nick brandishes his gun blindly, hands trembling as he battles the fire spreading through his chest.

"You can't win…" Grayson's voice hisses next to his ear, and then he's tipping sideways, and crashes to the ground on his left side.

_Fuck, get up. Get up! _He watches blearily, unable to move at all, as Grayson disappears through the doorway, and slams it shut from the outside, plunging him into darkness again.

Nick rolls onto his back, shaking badly, and pulls away the fabric of his jacket. Gasping, he feels his way through the extent of the damage. The first bullet left only a bleeding gash in its wake; the second is more worrisome—no exit wound, embedded deep between two of his uppermost ribs. He's already losing a lot of blood: the left side of his chest is coated in it.

He needs to stay alert… Needs to… _Call Shaena._ Grayson will go straight to her, now that he's out for the count; she needs to get away from the house, it's the first place he'll look. Nick fumbles with his cellphone, squinting hard at the screen; he can barely make out the numbers.

She picks up on the third ring.

"Shaena," he says breathlessly. Too breathlessly. _Pull it together._

"Nick! Did you find him? Are you okay?"

"Meet me at the warehouse. Leave, _now._" They hang up. Nick wishes they hadn't, he needs to hear her voice, but… he can't talk.

He can barely breathe.

* * *

The door to the hangar swings open slowly, creaking on its hinges, and spreading a square of light across the dusty floor. A small figures steps in, he recognizes the long hair, backlit and sparkling from the outside light. A flashlight beam sweeps across the expanse of the room, just missing him. No. She can't miss him… He takes a deep breath, or tries; his lungs won't expand much anymore.

"Shae…"

There's an intake of air from the figure, and a muffled curse.

"Jesus… you scared me—," she stops, squinting through the darkness, "Nick? Are you ok? What are you doing in _here_ anyway?"

"Can…you…come'ere?" He hears hurried footsteps and then Shaena is kneeling down next to him.

"Oh my god. What happened? ... You're bleeding." The flashlight drops from her hand with a clank. She slides an arm under his shoulders and tugs him into her lap.

Nick's vision grays out as she peels away the blood soaked fabric of his shirt, and he gasps softly, head tipping back over her arm. Ripping her scarf off one-handedly, she folds it up hastily and presses it against the wound. Nick bites back a scream, a fresh wave of sweat misting his forehead. His hand jerks up reflexively, scrabbling for something solid to hold onto and his fingers curl around the fabric of her jacket.

"You've been shot..! Why didn't you tell me?"

He opens his mouth to speak but no sound comes out.

"Fuck," she swears, loudly, voice trembling, "I - I didn't want him to… I didn't think he could hurt you, 'cause you're – "

"_Shaena_," he coughs out, gripping the lapel of her jacket tighter in his icy hand. Her mouth clicks shut, cutting off the flow of distressed babbling.

"I'm so sorry, Nick."

"It's…okay…" he chokes. He wants to stay, to tell her it really is okay, but he can't hold on any longer. He's slipping, even though he can still feel her knees against his back, her arm around his shoulders holding him up.

"Nick, stay with me," she pleads quietly. "I thought it would be something you could deal with, being a Grimm and all… Please, stay awake."

_What?! How the hell does she know..._

"Nick!"

* * *

_TBC_


	5. Chapter 5

_**Chapter 5 now! Thanks for the feedback, means a lot! LittleBounce, thank you so much for your help. This chapter was kind of hard to pull together, kind of nervous about how it turned out...**_

* * *

Hank bursts through the doors of the ED at Portland Gen, spotting Renard, Shaena and Wu by the nurses' station and Monroe off to the side staring down the corridor. To the four of them, they're already crowding the hallway, each shooting glances over at the closed swinging doors that lead down to the OR.

Hank makes his way to Monroe first, who's standing by himself a few feet away. "How bad is it?"

Monroe frowns, looking a little pained. "He's still in surgery… Hit to the chest. They won't tell us anything."

"Hank," the Captain calls him over. "What have you got?"

Not nearly as much as he would have liked. Wu steps in. "We found a phone on the scene. Not Nick's. It's pretty smashed, but the lab is doing what they can to retrieve the data."

Shaena is staring at the floor. There's blood on her sleeve, and creeping up the front of her shirt from the hem.

Renard nods. "I want to know as soon as you've got something." He turns to Shaena, "We need to put you under protective custody. Detective Griffin, she'll be staying with you."

Hank grinds his teeth. Right now all he knows is that his partner was shot, and that they don't even know if he's going to pull through, because of what Shaena dragged him into. She just nods, wearing an unreadable expression.

"Alright. Call me if there's any news on Nick." Renard nods curtly to them both, then turns and leaves with Wu in tow, Hank and Shaena watching him go.

"He's a bit distant," she mutters, sinking down into one of the plastic chairs lining the wall, "You'd think he'd act a little more concerned about one of his detectives getting shot."

Hank wants to put his fist through a wall.

"Why didn't Nick call for back up, huh?" He asks, more harshly than intended. Shaena holds his gaze.

"I don't know. But he obviously had his reasons."

Hank glares at her. "Yeah. I swear to god… If there's something you're not telling us…" He blows out a harsh breath and stalks off down a deserted hallway to calm his nerves, leaving Shaena sitting alone and staring after him.

The only reason he can think of that would make Nick go into some clearly dangerous situation alone would be if it were Grimm related… He shouldn't be walking away like this. But his partner… What hadn't Nick told him this time? Were there Wesen involved? He wishes he'd had more time to talk to Nick about the case, but he'd been busy with Shaena, and he'd had to deal with the body from the forest with Wu instead.

A hand settles on his shoulder, and Hank turns around to face Monroe. His brow is creased into a worried line.

"You should go home. Take Shaena with you. I'll stay and call as soon as there's a change. Ok?"

Hank wipes a hand down his face. He's too worked up to stay here any longer. Reluctantly, he heads back over to where Shaena is sitting and guides her toward the exit. She obviously doesn't want to leave either. This calms Hank's anger. If only a little bit.

* * *

"You can go see him now. But keep it short. He needs to rest."

Monroe stands in the doorway for a few seconds, staring. Nick's a pretty sorry sight, left arm in a sling, firmly secured to his chest, thick bandages peeking out from underneath. He's awake, though looking a little confused, staring at the ceiling past the oxygen mask on his face.

"Hey, man…" Monroe says finally, closing the door behind him, awkwardly jamming his hands into his pockets and shuffling around to the right side of the bed.

Nick tries to untangle his right hand from under the covers, and Monroe watches him silently for a few seconds, then huffs a sigh and leans over to give him some help. He smooths out the covers after, grumbling about ill-fitting hospital sheets.

Nick lifts the freed hand and tugs the oxygen mask off, murmuring a slightly slurred, "M'nroe? Shae ok?"

Monroe gently swats his hand away and replaces the mask over his face. "Leave that on, will ya? I can still hear you, and you need it. She's fine; she's with Hank, ok? Took a bit of… nudging to get her to leave with him, but she's safe at least."

Nick seems to relax, so Monroe sinks into the chair by the head of the bed, scrubbing his hands over his face. There's an awful crick building up in his neck from having dozed off for an hour in a random, very uncomfortable plastic chair around 10 that morning, and after spending the better part of the night pacing the corridor in front of Nick's room.

It was terrifying, seeing him so still like that. Yeah, they've each had their share of bumps and bruises, smacks and broken bones, but this was different. So different. Not even a 'he's still alive, don't you worry'. Silence. Then the waiting, punctuated by a miserly 'remains critical' and later 'very ill, but stable'. Not really an improvement on silence, as far as he's concerned.

"Do you have any idea what you nearly did to yourself?"

Nick rolls his head on the pillow to face him, blinking slowly. His voice is so quiet that Monroe's thankful for his Blutbad hearing, "Yeah... One of the nurses thinks I'm deaf… made it loud and clear as soon as I woke up."

Monroe scrubs his hands over his face. "Backup, Nick…" he sighs. "You're a freakin' cop. All you got to do is call it in. Why can't you just get that through your thick skull?"

A faint smile quirks the corners of Nick's lips under the mask, and Monroe sighs dejectedly. He doubts he'll get much sense out of him right now. "They gave you the good stuff, huh?"

But then Nick sobers, brow furrowing slightly. "Y'know why I can't always call it in."

Realization dawns on Monroe, and he grinds his teeth. How the hell could he not have thought of that possibility? "Wesen?"

"She knew I was a Grimm."

"How did she even know that?"

"It's her brother... He's Hundjäger."

"Yeah. I could tell she wasn't being exactly truthful," Monroe huffs. "Jesus. Well, that explains a lot. How does she fit into all of this?"

"D'you get any sort of Wesen scent from'er?" Nick blinks heavily, looking like the conversation is starting to get away from him a bit.

"No. She's your average human. Besides you would have noticed, because she was really freaked about _something_, that much I could tell."

"Another… Grimm?"

"Not that either. Dude, this is heavy stuff. I don't know what's going on, but you gotta find out fast," Monroe frowns darkly. "Look what's already happened."

Nick nods vaguely and closes his eyes. Monroe thinks he's out again, but then he speaks. "Was gonna call for backup…y'know. But then it happened again. Got that feeling I only get when there are Wesen around."

Monroe drags a hand down his face. "I could have been there – "

"Monroe. Stop. We weren't…. exactly planning on the situation getting this… outta hand…" Nick blows out a soft sigh and starts to drop off.

"I'll call Shaena. Let her know you woke up." Monroe lets his hand hover over Nick's right shoulder before finally giving it a gentle squeeze. A worried line crosses Nick's forehead at the mention of her name as he slips back under the surface.

The two are going to need to have a serious talk about quite a few things when he wakes up again.

* * *

Shaena slowly makes her way down the corridor towards Nick's room the next day. The sound of his voice alone should have told something was very wrong. She should've called an ambulance as soon as she'd seen the blood. Why the hell hadn't he?! Why hadn't _she…_?

She knows exactly why Nick wanted to become a cop. Even when they were together, his safety, his well-being – his everything, came after everyone else's. And that's what terrified her more than anything about him becoming a cop. It's one of the things that tore them apart. She couldn't live with him knowing everyday he'd be looking out for everyone else's safety except his own. Something that would inevitably get him hurt. Or worse. Still so fucking stubborn. Calling her before calling an ambulance, even though he was bleeding out all by himself in some dark warehouse. Dammit, Nick. Goddammit.

He's awake and sitting up in bed. Monroe had given little detail on his appearance, probably not wanting to 'scare' her… She would have preferred a little warning. He's still on oxygen, though they've since moved him from a mask to a nasal cannula.

"Hi… How are you feeling?" she asks, even though the answer to that is blatantly obvious from his waxy pallor.

He gives her a weak smile, but it fades quickly. "Where's Hank?"

"Running some errands."

Nick frowns. "You came here alone?"

"He's picking me up in an hour." An uncomfortable silence settles around them.

He's looking down, seemingly absorbed by the pattern in the blanket covering his legs; his shoulders are tense.

She'd thought – hoped – Nick wouldn't remember much of the moments before he'd lost consciousness. There was, of course, the excruciating pain he'd been in, and then her, panic having momentarily taken over, blurting out her knowledge of him as a Grimm. She's not sure she'd be capable of telling him everything right now. But they both know this, and it hangs above them like some heavy, dark cloud, waiting to unleash its storm.

"Shaena," when Nick speaks up, his voice is quiet. "You said something before I… about me being a Grimm."

Do they really need to bring this up _now_, though? He can't be ready yet; he'd been shot two days ago for god's sake. She doesn't even know how he's even able to hold himself up.

She knows _she's_ not ready.

"Tell me, Shae."

She doesn't answer. Nick closes his eyes, letting his head tip forwards. The heart monitor's beeping is loud and invasive in the heavy silence. Sooner or later, they're going to need to sit down and have this talk. Shaena's eyes fall on the sling securing Nick's left arm close to his chest, the heavy white gauze wrapped around his ribs and all the way around shoulder. They cut it way too close for comfort.

When Nick looks up again, his eyes are slightly wet, and she can hear him breathing kind of hard, cold sweat dappling his forehead. It's like his eyes see right through her.

"What do you need?" she asks softly.

He shifts stiffly. "I need to know everything. I can't fit it all together… And what I don't know…" he draws in a shuddering breath, "Is what might get you hurt."

She's never seen him look so open; she's always been able to read people easily, but Nick was a different story. Right now, there are so many things written out on his face … It's choking him.

The heart monitor's shrill beeping kicks up a notch.

Gently, she pushes him back to lie against the pillows, then sinks down in the chair by his head.

"You know what Grayson is," she begins slowly, picking at a piece of lint on her sweater.

Nick nods. "But how do _you_ know? About him; about me?

"Grayson's mom, Rebecca, she's Hundjäger too. His dad also, but he was killed." She takes a deep breath. That wasn't so hard. It's the rest that's tricky. How should she lay this out? Nick must know about some of the things his aunt did. Right? "Killed by another Grimm - your Aunt Marie. A couple years after you… left, Rebecca told me all this. That you could be one too."

Nick swallows hard, but nods for her to continue.

"I hadn't heard from Gray in six years when he asked to meet me at the hotel. I still don't know why those men hired him. He became a sort ofcontract killer for them. He's killed so many people…"

Nick curses under his breath. "Reapers."

What the hell? "Reapers? Nick, what are reapers?"

He winces, adjusting his sling, "Their job is to eliminate Grimms. One killed my aunt… They hire Hundjägers as their assassins because of their tracking skills."

Oh god. Nick had basically walked into a death trap…because of her. "Nick, I didn't know. I'm so sorry." It's a good job she's sitting down; she actually feels sick for a moment. "I thought with you being a Grimm, you could deal with them. I thought that was what you did."

"It is what we do…But we're not invincible, I guess." He smiles wanly. "Fortunately, though, I've found out not all Wesen want me dead off the bat."

"Wesen?"

"The general term for all of the people who can shift like that. Grayson - all Hundjägers - and many, many others, are Wesen."

Shaena feels abruptly cold. "There are more than just Hundjägers? Other 'creatures'? Sorry, I just don't know what else to call them."

"Yeah, awkward, which is why we call them 'Wesen'" Nick sighs, "And they're all different."

Rebecca had already had the hardest time actually getting her to believe what she was. Up until she'd actually woged. That had been one of the most frightening things Shaena had ever seen in her life, hearing sinews snap, seeing the bones shift and click into place. It had destroyed everything she'd believed in until then. More than just Hundjägers…? That's just way too much to process right now.

Nick's eyes are starting to drop closed. He tugs them open with a visible effort. "How…did Grayson get involved with the Reapers?"

She really has no idea. "I wish I knew."

"We'll find out… Okay?" he whispers, reaching out for her hand. She squeezes it gently, mindful of the IV snaking up the back of it and watches him drop off, his face slowly relaxing.

She keeps his hand in hers for a little longer, running her thumb over his knuckles. She could easily sit by him for hours… But she's afraid of sending wrong signals out to Nick. Or to herself. Wouldn't be very fair to either of them. She gently places his hand back at his side, checks one last time to make sure he's asleep, and slips back out of the room.

* * *

Lily is asleep now. Finally. Grayson was sure she'd never stop crying, the endless sobs had been grating at his nerve endings for the past hour. How he came to care so little for the girl he once considered his _baby_ sister, he knows. It's when exactly he stopped caring he's not sure of. He'd been close to silencing her himself.

He didn't, naturally. He has a plan. It's all figured out; he just has to stick to it. He's had a fair amount of practice and things all worked out fine, before. He could have been done and far away by now had Shaena not interfered. Far away from all this, from them. From everyone. He laughs bitterly. And to think he used to care about Shaena. She's just a stranger to him today, as are Lily and his mom. They used to get along so well. Like real siblings. Who was it that had called them inseparable?

At the time he had no idea just how different they really were. That was something he found out the hard way - the first time on the night before his 20th birthday. The pain in his skull, his mouth, his very bones, didn't fade for days.

"You can't keep acting up like this," James looked pained. "You're hurting your mom. Your little sisters. Son, you've got so much going for you. Why are you doing this?"

"Don't call me that! I'm not your son, for fuck's sake! Stop trying to take his place!" Grayson's hands curled into fists so tight his nails cut into the flesh of his palms.

James froze, looking like he'd just been slapped. "Why are you so angry, Gray?"

He tried to leave, but James stepped in his way. He should have known by then not to do that when he was this worked up. During the worst of his rages, he could put a hole through a wall. Or anyone in his path.

"Move."

"No. Tell me why you're so mad."

Something snapped in him, deep inside, and suddenly he had no more control over his strength as his fist connected with James' jaw.

"Grayson!" His mom appeared in the doorway, looking absolutely horrified. "What is going on?!"

Before she could say anything else, he roughly pushed past her, slamming the door on them, feeling a hinge give through his palm on the handle. He stomped the whole way up the stairs, fury making his breathing harsh and ragged, and locked his bedroom door behind him.

Then it happened.

The pain and unexpectedness of it dropped him to his knees in front of the full length mirror on the wall. The sound was terrifying. Cracking, snapping, tearing. A vicious, throaty growl that he realized with horror was coming from him. His canines grew and sharpened. He bit clean through his lower lip, blood dribbling onto his outstretched hands and the carpet. When he looked up, he found a hideous, unrecognizable monster staring back at him.

Then just like that he snapped back. To human. The reflection he thought he knew. He sat there on his knees for god knows how long, staring at that reflection, catching blood drops from his torn bottom lip in his shaking hands. In too much pain to move. He stayed locked in his room for days.

His mom tried knocking a couple of times. He was sick, he told her, and kept staring at the ceiling, waiting for her to call his name through the door yet again, until on the third night, she said "We need to talk about what you are." And his world came crashing down.

Knowing_ what_ he was isn't what hurt the most, what tortured him the most. It was the fact that his mom knew all along… and never told him. The anger, the solitude, the violent, bloody thoughts that used to scare him sleepless for days: it all clicked into place. He left without turning back.

A few hours later, he found himself in a dingy bar, all kinds of morphed faces suddenly popping up from the mass of people. Two lionesque figures hunched over the bar counter, one scaled beast in a dark corner, a furry faced man with large teeth. He just wanted to forget, to escape; the childish hope lingering in the back of his mind that if he closed his eyes for long enough, he'd wake up in his own bed to the sound of Lily and Shaena giggling in the room across the hall and the carpet would be free of bloodstains.

But then he ripped a man's carotid clean out with his teeth.

Gray gives a bitter chuckle, remembering the fear, the confusion, the anger, all so vivid and painful. In the space of three days, his whole life had been turned upside down. There was no going back. It all seems so far away now, though. The fear and confusion dissipated quite a long time ago. Lily gives a quiet whimper in her sleep, screwing her eyes shut tighter.

It dissipated when killing became a way of living, when the reapers decided that for him in the parking lot.

"You think you can just walk away like that?" He hadn't even seen the two men descend on him as he was fumbling with his car keys, and desperately trying to wipe the blood off his hands and mouth. One grabbed hold of his shoulder, flipping him around. Another iron grip curled around his neck. Then he was face to face with two men, features similarly hideous to the one he'd just killed.

Gray shifted, out of fear this time, biting through his lip again. "Hey, hold on," the second man grunted. "He's Hundjäger." The two snapped back to human, still gripping him firmly.

"You new to this?"

Grayson shifted back too, turning his head and spitting blood onto the ground.

"He definitely is."

"I'll tell you what, kid. You're never getting off the hook for killing our friend over there. But since it comes to you so easily, maybe you can work towards it. You belong to us now."

"What if I say no?" he tried, and then turned away sharply as an ugly snarl and jagged teeth were shoved in his face.

"Oh, you always have a choice, don't you worry. You say yes to working for us, or we kill you right here. And make sure it lasts."

He got the call from Cyrus two days later, sitting in a crummy motel room with a 9mil in one hand and a picture of his first target in the other. He hadn't heard from him in years. It turned out his oldest friend - the guy he thought he knew by heart – was just like him and knew one hell of a lot about _reapers _too. A whole new world opened up to him, where taking another person's life was no longer a horrifying act, and tasting blood was a thrilling experience. There was no going back from there. And he no longer wanted to.

Lily twists slightly on the makeshift mattress in the corner, a sob escaping her lips. Her hair spills out over the pillow, revealing the pale skin of her neck. Open. Vulnerable. It would be so easy.

No. First, Shaena. Then he can do whatever he wants with Lily. Besides, he'll be far away by the time anyone finds what's left of them.

* * *

_TBC_


	6. Chapter 6

_**Hopefully this chapter will give a bit more answers. Thanks for the feedback, it means so much to hear your thoughts. LittleBounce: thank you ;) Hope you enjoy. **_

* * *

Shaena gives an audible sigh and puts her plastic fork back down on the table, barely having touched anything on her plate. It's not like Monroe can blame her, the hospital cafeteria food is making him a little nauseous. Or maybe it's the whole atmosphere of the place. He pushes his own plate away too.

"You okay?"

She nods vaguely. "Can we go see Nick now?"

Monroe shrugs, and gets to his feet, knees cracking slightly. "Okay. Let's go."

They take the stairs. Less busy that way. Oddly enough, today, the hospital seems quieter. Calmer. Maybe it's just knowing that Nick's okay – in a lot of pain, but okay – and on the road to recovery that makes it seem that way. Monroe trudges slowly up the steps, hands in his pockets. He stops briefly on the fifth floor landing, then realizes Shaena isn't next to him. He peers down the steps, to where she's just standing, looking unsure.

"You coming?"

"Monroe?" He backs down the steps again, going to stand in front of her.

"Yeah?"

"Are youreally a consultant for the police department?"

Well, that was kind of… sudden. Where's she going to take this? He runs a hand through his hair, lots of different escape routes flitting through his mind, but unable to grasp any.

"Why would you ask that?"

She runs a hand over her face, and suddenly it dawns on him how exhausted she looks. She shakes her head a couple of times, like she needs to say something, but can't find the right words.

"Do you know… about Nick? About Grayson?"

God. She really has no idea what she's dealing with, or she wouldn't be just pouring her heart out to some barely-acquainted person about it. She got lucky this time, that that person happens to be him…

"What do you mean?"

"I mean… You and Nick seem pretty close, right? And it doesn't make sense that he would trust some random consultant to protect me from my suddenly-homicidal stepbrother – not that I can't protect myself. Never mind. But still, you've got to know something about it! About all this? You know, how Nick's a Gr—"

Monroe silences her with an urgent lip-zip gesture, just as the door to the fourth floor bangs open and two doctors bustle past. He relaxes a little when their voices disappear.

"Ok. Listen. This isn't something most people can understand. It's a little too over their heads. You get it? Don't just go blurting things like that out in the open."

"Monroe… Are you a Grimm too?"

He wipes a hand down his face. "No. I'm not."

Her eyes widen a little, "Then how do you - ? So you're Wesen?"

"Okay, just shhhh. Alright? Yes, I am. Blutbad to be exact. But, like I said, it's not the kind of thing I can―"

"Show me."

Come again?

"Do you look like Hundjägers?"

Monroe kind of wishes Nick were here, and able to explain all this in depth, because he's not sure how well he's going to be able to do that.

"No, we're all different. Shaena, this is the kind of subject you would ease into, not just drop on someone like a bomb… And you don't want to see – you don't _need_ to see."

Shaena's stares him straight in the eyes. He subconsciously feels like shrinking back.

"You say this whole thing is a little over your average person's head? Well, I can't help knowing all of this. Too late for that. I've seen my stepmom, what she really is. And now that I've seen that, I think I can say I'll take it better than others. Up until yesterday, I thought there were only Hundjägers; now it turns out there are all different kinds of these… Wesen? I'm only human, Monroe. You can't just tell me, you have to show me. For god's sake…"

She turns away and paces a little. Monroe finds himself feeling a little bad. He'll never forget all the disbelief and fear on Nick's face at the very beginning, and he was fated to come across all this one day. Shaena should have gone her whole life without knowing about Wesen.

"You know what the worst part is? I thought I knew everything there was to know. That's what Rebecca led me to think at least. That Grimms were pretty much invincible. I thought Nick was going after a bad guy who just happened to be a Hundjäger – I know they're not _all_ bad because of my step-mom. And because it turned out that I actually didn't have even half a clue about what was going on… look what happened to Nick."

Monroe can tell she's really beating herself up about what happened. What a fucked up situation. For all of them. And with a sixteen year old girl caught up in the middle. He reaches out and grasps both her shoulders, stopping her pacing.

"Okay. I'll show you. Just… Know it's still me. Got it?"

Shaena nods stiffly. Monroe takes a deep breath, lets the woge come, red creeping into his vision, hearing tripling to register the tiniest rustle of clothing, her accelerating heartbeat. He can smell fear… Strong, present, vivid. But also intrigue. He pulls back, feeling the wolf fade away again.

The stairwell is eerily quiet as they stare at each other, neither knowing what to say. A door opens from somewhere above them, letting a wave of hospital hustle and bustle in before closing and bringing silence down around them again.

"You look different," Shaena says finally. "From them at least."

Monroe nods, surprised she's not already taken off running, or screaming, or sobbing, or… something.

"We're all different. Hundjägers and Blutbaden; they're actually worlds apart."

"So you know a lot about all Wesen?"

Monroe nods. Maybe more than your average Blutbad, yes.

"Okay," Shaena says, "I want to know the truth, then. The accurate facts. Tell me everything."

* * *

Nick experiments with sitting on the edge of the bed and just swinging his legs. He's pretty stiff but it's been four days now, and the painkillers make the bone deep pain in his chest manageable most of the time, even though they give the world a fuzzy edge.

Monroe and Shaena had stopped by yesterday, Monroe looking a little fidgety, Shaena on the other hand, looking more relaxed than she had in the past week. It took him a while to figure out why, until Monroe had simply said, "She knows." Nick was relieved that there was no need to tiptoe around things like his relationship with Monroe the way he'd had to with Juliette, or pretty much any non-Wesen, non-Grimm related person in his life before.

"Hey, Nick, what are you doing up?" Hank walks into the room, badge around his neck, file in his hands. Nick carefully gets back into bed. Neither Shaena nor Monroe had come in today, but that was okay. He was supposedly filling her in on everything she needed to know about Wesen, and Nick had got a text from each of them pretty much simultaneously that morning. Still, it's nice to have some company after all.

Hank pulls a chair up by the bed, looking exhausted. "How you feeling?"

"I'm fine."

Hank narrows his eyes at him, but lets it slide, leaning back with a sigh. He'd been angry, to put it mildly, when he'd came to see Nick on the second day. Though he'd still been a little hazy, Nick remembers very clearly having been read the riot act about not calling for back up, being stubborn as hell, being stupid and… being stupid.

Grayson being Wesen had been a surprise even to Nick, though. Now that Hank knew that, he seemed a little less irate, and less apprehensive of Shaena, but still looked like he was beating himself up over his partner landing in the hospital when he could have been there to prevent it.

"We miss you back at the precinct, man. Wu's got no one to talk to, so I have to sit through every single one of his lame ass jokes."

Nick smirks. "That's harsh, man."

"How much longer they keeping you here?"

"A few more days…depends on how I'm doing." Seems like quite a while away. He's already getting restless; he can't do anything for the case in his current position.

"Nick," Hank begins tentatively, "The Captain's got you on leave for six weeks when you get out."

His heart sinks. "You know I have to help with this case. Especially since Grayson is Wesen."

Hank raises an eyebrow at him. "And just how do you expect to help out when you're in this state? C'mon, Nick, really. Besides, the whole precinct's working on it now, after what happened." He waves the file at him, "And we've got a new lead."

Nick tenses.

"We were able to retrieve the data from the smashed cell phone we found in the warehouse. Only two numbers contacted… A text to that Cyrus McAvoy guy's number, and a call to – "

"Shaena," Nick finishes.

"Yeah… How do you know that?"

"It's how we traced him back to the warehouse by the Fremont Bridge. He called her while we were at the precinct."

Hank frowns. "Where the hell was I when that happened?"

"Interrogating a suspect. Body in the forest case. Sorry, don't know the vic's name…"

Hank closes his eyes briefly and shakes his head.

Nick quickly changes the subject. "What did the text say?"

Hank hands him a paper from the file. '_New . Urgent_'. "We only got the data this morning, we're trying to figure out what that means…"

"'At' as in location?"

Hank's eyes widen. "Of course he'd need a new location for Lily, that place swarmed with cops after you got shot. But why ask that guy? Are they working together?"

"I think they are. McAvoy was the one who went after Shaena after the hotel meet, even though Grayson could have done that himself. Were you guys able to get a GPS signal for his cell?"

"No… Not yet." Hank stands, a small smile now back on his face, "But we've found some people we can link to him. Associates. Old partners. Amazing how much further you get when the photo tag software actually works. First thing in the morning, Wu and I are going to shake some of them down, see what they can tell us about McAvoy's usual operations and locations. You take it easy, okay? I'll check in tomorrow." He heads for the door.

"Hank," Nick calls him back, "I think I know where Cyrus got that scar… I'm pretty sure he's Hundjäger too. He worked for the Verrat, but went rogue. They should have killed him for it, but it looks like he got away, somehow. Just… be careful, okay?"

Hank nods, then disappears through the doorway. Nick's sure he's never felt this helpless. He _hates_ it.

* * *

Shaena sits in Hank's spare bedroom late that evening, turning her cellphone over and over in her hands. Another fifteen minutes of indecision and maybe then she'll finally just call? She shakes her head at herself and hits speed dial 1.

"Shaena?! Any news on Lily? Are you okay?" Rebecca answers with a string of questions, frantic and so hopeful it's almost painful.

"Not yet."

Heavy silence hangs on the other end of the line for a couple of seconds, Shaena fiddles with a loose strand in the comforter, debating where to start.

"Nick's in the hospital."

There's a sharp intake of air on the other end of the line. "Oh my god… Is he okay?"

Shaena's eyes sting and her throat tightens. "No. He's not," she struggles to keep her voice even. "Gray shot him. You told me that Hundjägers were much weaker than Grimms! That Grimms were practically indestructible! And now Nick almost got himself killed. What else don't I know, Becca?"

Rebecca struggles for words, sounding stricken. "I'm _so _sorry, honey… Please… believe me. Gray's dad was killed by a Grimm… and if you had ever met him, you never would have believed _anyone_ could be stronger and more dangerous than him. But Marie was. And she was a woman! All my life I was told what I was was bad, that it had to be a secret and I should never let it come out… So I learned to control it. And I thought Gray had too."

"How come he hadn't?"

"You_ can't_ learn to control it before your first woge…" Rebecca gives a tired sigh. "He found out the hard way. I was going to tell him, I really was, but I should have started explaining to him earlier. I had no idea the effect his first woge was going to have on him…"

"What happened?" Shaena prompts.

"Do you remember a couple of nights before he left, he hit your father?"

Shaena didn't. Repressed memory, no doubt. Gray used to be a hero in her eyes. The dark, strong older brother with a scary temper, yes, but who'd always been there for her when she needed it. Her world had fallen apart the night he left and never came back. How could she have been so blind?

Shaena feels suddenly accusing and angry. "_Why_ didn't you tell him before?

Rebecca's voice is quiet. "I was going to. I really was. But his first woge was so unexpected; I thought I had more time. I didn't know it would change him so much."

"But Becca…" Shaena sighs sadly, "You're nothing like that, and nothing like Gray's father. You could have shown him it was possible to be different. To control it."

"You have to understand… I couldn't tell him. I was so afraid he'd be like his father. Marie was still out there. Gray's always been so impulsive; you know that. If I had told him about what he was, about what happened to his dad, he would have gone after her. I didn't want to lose him…"

"We all lost him anyways in the end." Shaena says, more to herself than to Rebecca.

"I wanted so desperately for him to have a normal life. I wanted a normal relationship with your father, and for Gray to know what it was like to have someone there who really cared and would just let him be a normal boy. He had a new example to look up to; I didn't want to turn him into some copy of his father by telling him what he would become…" There's a slightly shaky intake of air. "It was foolish of me to ever think – hope – the Hundjäger in him had somehow been diminished. That first woge is always bound to happen… And Gray is very much like his father after all. I'm so sorry this is happening… He should never have been a danger to you and Lil."

Shaena runs a hand through her hair. "You know… I actually believed he had changed. When he called me last week, he said he was turning his life around. _And I believed him_. He wanted to meet me at that hotel so we could make up. Just like old times. He even told me he was afraid of your reaction and couldn't face you first."

There's a soft knock on the door, then Hank sticks his head into the room. "Hey… Sorry, am I interrupting?"

Shaena quickly wipes her eyes with her sleeve. "No. No, I was just finishing."

He nods, looking a little uncomfortable. "I was going to watch the football game," he offers, "If you want to join me..."

"Oh…Thanks, I'll be done in a sec."

She puts the phone back to her ear once they door clicks shut again. "I've got to go…" She doesn't have the energy to continue this conversation tonight. Along with everything Monroe showed her today, it's a lot to process.

Rebecca sounds disappointed. "Oh... Alright. Please call again. This is all so complicated. And take care of yourself, okay?"

"Okay... Bye," Shaena hangs up, not nearly as reassured as she would have liked.

. . . . . . . . . . .

"Can I get you something to drink?" Hank asks as Shaena gets settled on the couch. "Water, coffee... Beer?" Now that sounds perfect.

"A beer would be great."

He nods and ambles into the kitchen. She hears the door to the fridge open, bottles clinking, then shortly after the familiar hiss of beer being cracked open. He returns with two, hands her one and settles down onto the opposite side of the couch with his. He swings his feet up onto the coffee table and switches the football game on. Then he turns the sound down low and turns to her.

"You okay?"

She nods slowly. "I was just talking to my stepmom…"

"How is she taking all of this?"

Considering the son she hasn't seen in ten years has kidnapped her little girl and threatened to kill her, okay she would say. "She's hanging in there."

"We're making progress. And we've got a new lead." Hope sparks in the back of Shaena's mind. She banishes it quickly.

"That cellphone we found in the warehouse? We retrieved the data from it."

"My number should be in it…"

"It is. But so is Cyrus McAvoy's."

Shaena feels a little sick. That's not much to go by. They already know Cyrus is helping Grayson.

"I know it doesn't sound like a lot, but that's not it. He texted McAvoy. Gunning for a new location. We found people we can link to Cyrus. We get to them, we get to him. And then we'll be that much closer to finding Lily."

Ok… That's really not much. Cyrus and Gray aren't stupid enough to leave loose ends like that. They won't get anything out of those people. Shaena rubs her eyes. Panicking over it is not going to help Lily.

"You know, I see a lot of crazy things as a cop," Hank shakes his head and takes a swig from his beer, "But _this_ … this is never going to get normal."

Shaena just stares at him. So Hank knows too… "How do you deal with all of it?"

"You're pretty lucky to have found out the way you did – someone just explaining to you straight up. I thought I was going crazy. But now that I know… So many things about Nick make sense. I mean, I've known this guy for years, but I'll admit, before figuring out all of this, there were times I sincerely thought he was going nuts." A vague smile touches his lips. Then he looks pensive. "So what's the deal with you two?"

What _is_ the deal with them? She's not sure she knows anymore. They were almost completely different people six years ago. So where does that leave them today? That's too deep an issue to ponder tonight.

She goes for vague. "We met in college, spent a few years together, and then went our separate ways to pursue our careers."

Hank doesn't look convinced.

Shaena changes the subject. "I don't know what good saying this is going to do, but… I'm so sorry about what happened to Nick. I had no idea – "

"Hey…" Hank cuts her off gently, "It is not your fault. And I'm sorry if I made you think that. It's just, I didn't know what to think when I got to the ED, I'd only been given bits of information from Wu and the Captain. Nick's my partner. You know how that goes. But, as far as I can tell, you and I both know that personal safety is never Nick's priority. This isn't the first time he's been pretty banged up."

Shaena slips her shoes off and curls her feet up under her on the couch facing Hank, feeling a little better. Hank had been so angry that first night she'd stayed with him, and had barely even talked to her. She couldn't blame him though. She still feels responsible for Nick getting hurt.

Hank settles back against the couch cushions. "He'll pull through," he says quietly. And she knows it's true.

Silence settles around them as they watch the game, both mostly absorbed in their thoughts. Shaena dozes off eventually, dreaming fitfully of Nick's blood on her hands and his gray eyes staring up at her, blank and lifeless.

* * *

_TBC_


	7. Chapter 7

_**Here's 7, folks. This one took a while (sorry), mostly because it just wasn't cooperating! Thank you for all the feedback, it means so much. LittleBounce: hug attack for you! Hope you all enjoy...**_

* * *

Shaena is jarred from her light slumber by the sound of the doorbell ringing, invasive and foreboding in the quiet of the house. She bolts upright, scanning the room for Hank. He's already on his feet, motioning for her not to make a sound.

"I'll get it," he murmurs, "Stay down."

He snatches his gun up off the coffee table, cocks it, and heads into the front hallway. From her vantage point, Shaena can only see part of his back. She waits, heart pounding and straining her ears to hear what's going on out on the porch. Then Hank reappears in the doorway to the living room, frowning slightly.

"There's no one there."

She sees the silhouette-black figure advance on him from behind.

"HANK!"

He whirls around, gun coming up, but a huge hand catches him across the face and sends him hurtling into the coffee table. His gun skids out of reach and into a corner as he folds to the floor in the mess of splintered wood, out cold.

It doesn't take Shaena long to recognize exactly who the intruder is.

Cyrus gives her a dark smile and shifts into full Hundjäger, baring gray, sharp canines. "Your brother's not too happy you got away. You've caused us a bit of trouble… Let's not disappoint him this time, shall we?"

Shaena clamps down hard on the panic. Now is not the time to lose it.

Cyrus is _fast_. It's terrifying. She's barely moved an inch when he's already reached her on the other side of the room and gripped her by the hair. She struggles frantically against his painful hold, kicking him as hard as she can. One randomly aimed boot catches him in the groin; he gives a furious roar and throws her to the ground. Shaena's vaguely aware of a hard knock to her right elbow, and a smack to the back of the head, dazing her for a few seconds. Then she scrabbles across the carpet, backing into a corner.

Cyrus growls, running his tongue over his fangs. "Oh… trapped. Sucks a bit of the fun out of it."

A terrible realization dawns on her, making her breathing more ragged than she can deal with. She shoots a frantic glance over at Hank, who still lies immobile on the floor, eyes closed. She's not getting out of this one.

Cyrus takes a step closer. Instinctively, she backs up further into the wall. Nowhere to go.

Her tailbone hits against something hard. Groping blindly behind her, her hand closes around Hank's gun. _Hank's gun. _She snatches it up as Cyrus lunges for her and pulled at the trigger twice. He balks, stumbling back a step and clutching his chest. The Hundjäger's features snap away gradually. A thin line of red seeps from the corner of his mouth as he goes down, hitting the carpet with a dull thud.

. . . . . . . . . . . . .

Shaena is pulled from her thoughts by Hank's voice. There's a dark bruise forming on his left cheek and he's holding an icepack to his head.

"Go see Nick."

The words have trouble penetrating the fog-like daze in her brain. She nods, leaving him in the exam room and takes the elevator up to Nick's floor, staring blankly ahead of her. What's wrong? A few doctors in white coats brush past, a nurse offers her a smile; she barely notices.

Nick's eyes widen in surprise as she walks into the room, quietly closing the door behind her. She stays near the door, not sure what she's going to say or do.

"Shae? Why are you here so late?" Nick sits up. "Are you okay?"

Yeah. She is. Or will be. The dazed feeling seems to slip away a little. Her eyes sting, her head and arm ache where she hit them, her scalp is sore.

She killed a man.

"I'm fine." The words come out much less confident than she intended.

It strikes her that she can see Nick's heart pounding, sending little vibrations through the fabric of his t-shirt. Like he's afraid of something. Sounds around her fade to a background buzz, and all she can see his him, his eyes, seeing right into her.

"Shaena_._"

"It was Cyrus," she approaches the bed, then goes to the window, paces there. "He attacked Hank… and me. I…" Her throat hurts. "I shot him. He's dead."

She sits down on the edge of the bed, staring down at her hands. They're shaking… Her hands never shake. Nick's right comes up, cupping her chin, lifting it so that she's looking into his eyes.

She _killed_ a man.

A dry sob suddenly escapes her lips. Then tears start to fall, streaming down her cheeks and onto Nick's hand.

"It's okay," he says softly, wrapping his palm around the nape of her neck and drawing her into his chest. She buries her face in his shoulder, unable to control the sobs anymore. "It's okay."

She clings to him. His lips are on her forehead, whispering things she can't understand at the moment, but that are soothing. His other arm comes up around her back, wrapping her in full body hug and holding her close.

She's not sure how long they sit there like that. But, pressed up against his chest, she slowly becomes aware of his heartbeat banging rapidly against her, and that Nick is shaking ever so slightly.

Shaena pulls away, eyes stinging.

"You okay?" Nick asks, head tipping back against the pillow. His sling hangs limply around his neck; he'd taken his arm out to be able to comfort her properly, and now he's in a considerable amount of pain as a result. She helps him slide his arm back into it, and lays a hand on his chest. They sit in silence, waiting for his heartbeat to slow.

"I'm sorry," she mumbles, suddenly feeling drained, a headache steadily building up behind her eyes.

He brushes a stray tear off her cheek with his thumb. "It's not safe for you to go back to Hank's."

"We're staying with Monroe tonight… I'll stop by tomorrow."

* * *

Monroe watches the entrance of Portland Gen, drumming his fingers against the dash. His skin crawls at the thought of Cyrus attacking Shaena and Hank. Cyrus being dead doesn't make him feel any less uneasy. It was a close call; it's a miracle they're both still alive. From the little information he'd gotten about the guy from Nick… Not the kind of Hundjäger you'd want to mess with. Ever. The glaring scar on Cyrus' neck was the first thing that had caught Monroe's eye from the photo. He knew exactly where it came from. Typical kill method for Hundjäger assassins. Rip out their own partner's throat if they were close to giving away any information. If Cyrus had survived that…? _Definitely_ not the guy you want to mess with.

Hank and Shaena come into view behind the glass doors, and make their way out onto the curb. Monroe gets out of the car and watches them slowly approach. Shaena's eyes are red, Hank is holding his head.

Jesus. "You guys okay?" Monroe asks softly as they all buckle up and he pulls back out onto the street.

Shaena's yes comes out slightly scratchy and thoroughly unconvincing; Hank briefly locks eyes with him and offers him a meek nod. They drive in silence for a while. Then Monroe gives Hank a sidelong glance. "Is she going to be okay?" he asks softly.

"I'm the one who shot him," Shaena's voice comes from the backseat, quiet, but even. Monroe's heart sinks. Through the rearview mirror, he sees a single tear slide down her cheek.

Hank turns gingerly in his seat and places a hand on Shaena's knee. "No choice," he whispers. She places her hand over his. "Tomorrow, you're going to need to come in to the precinct and give a statement… When you're ready. Okay? I'll be there anyways."

She nods slowly. "I'll go in after I see Nick in the morning."

Monroe finds it impossible to sleep that night. He gives up trying around 3 am, the tossing and turning getting to him, and makes his way downstairs. The light over the kitchen table is on, and he finds Hank there, face pillowed against a forearm, holding a pack of frozen peas to the back of his head.

"You okay, man?" Monroe asks quietly, sinking down into the chair opposite him.

Hank raises his head a little, wincing. "Yeah. Can't sleep either, huh?" He sighs, placing the bag on the table in front of him. "Shaena's awake too. The light's on up there."

Monroe can't blame her. He gets up from the table and puts the kettle on to boil.

"You know," Hank begins quietly, "They always used to tell us the first time was the hardest. The worst. And believe me, it was." Monroe swallows, not sure he wants to get into this conversation. "But it never got 'easier'. Not matter how much of a monster that person was… The truth is, you still took the life of someone's son or daughter… Partner, friend…"

Monroe closes his eyes and leans against the counter, forcing away the not so distant memory of when that was still so easy for him.

* * *

Nick shoots a glance at the clock up on the wall. Half past midnight. The hospital is pretty empty right now, and the unfriendly night nurse won't be back around for another hour or so. Restlessly, he kicks the covers back and swings his legs over the edge of the bed. The one thing reassuring about Cyrus being out of the way is that Grayson can't be in two places at once now, so to speak. He won't be able to leave Lily for long periods of time, because there's no doubt that if she can she'll find a way to get the hell out of there if he's gone too long. And he won't kill Lily just yet. She's his leverage. Without her, he has no hopes of getting to Shaena in any way.

Without Cyrus, Grayson will be slowed down, but they're still running out of time. They need to find him and get Lily fast. Grayson is impulsive, and yes, he's been trained and conditioned to remain detached and efficient when situations get a little tough, but he's going to lose patience. From what Shaena told Nick, Grayson had one last 'job' to fill and then he was done. Finishing up his service for the reapers and then allowed to leave? Or planning to? But now, Grayson is in much deeper than he had probably foreseen. He must know it was a sloppy move to shoot a cop…with the possibility of him living. He's going to get desperate eventually. Nick doesn't plan to be a sitting duck full of wires when he gets that way.

"Detective Burkhardt… What are you doing up?" Lauren, the nurse from the front desk, is standing in the doorway. She has a kind smile and gray hair.

"Would you help?" Nick asks, nodding to the IV in the back of his hand.

"Going somewhere?"

Nick gives her a pointed look. She frowns sympathetically. "You really shouldn't be leaving yet. I'm saying this in your best interest."

Nick sighs and makes to pull it out himself, so Lauren bustles over and reluctantly helps him out. Then, she watches him get dressed, hands on her hips, seemingly waiting for him to keel over. When he doesn't, she looks a little less worried. But only a little.

"You can't just jump bail, Detective... If you're leaving now, I need you to withstand the typical lecture on leaving against medical advice. You know the drill."

Nick knows. And he withstands it, all ten minutes of it, then grabs the rest of his belongings from the closet, his badge, gun and cellphone and follows her out into the hallway.

"Sign these, please," she regains her seat behind the front desk and hands him a clipboard and pen over the counter. Nick finishes signing the necessary forms and pulls his hood up over his head. "Thanks." He offers her a smile and turns to leave.

"Detective!" she calls him back; he groans internally, but she just waves a thin piece of paper at him. His prescription. "If you insist on leaving, hon, you're going to need these."

She sighs resignedly and pats his hand, letting him leave. Easier than he thought it would be.

Waiting for the cab on the curb outside, Nick shivers slightly in the cold night air, and tugs his jacket a little tighter around him. The left sleeve hangs empty at his side. He feels…okay, actually. He was going crazy laid up in that hospital bed. Even if he was going to be released in just three days… Three days is a long time. He needs to be active on the case, not just watch Wu and Hank run around following different leads. Even Monroe is helping out. Shae came to him for help, and considering the nature of the problem… Wu and Hank are only going to be able to help out to a certain extent. In there, he was worse than useless. He was an extra target to watch.

Just thinking about what happened tonight brings up a fresh wave of frustration and anger. That never should have happened. He feels a deep pang of sympathy for Shaena. Even for a cop, shooting someone for the first time is a traumatic experience. It was for him. Sending Cyrus to attack Shaena again, now that the police are involved, was a desperate move on Grayson's part. A sure sign that he's already getting impatient.

"You sure you're okay, sir?" the cabbie asks, eyeing him questioningly through the rearview.

Nick takes the stairs up to the porch slowly. The house is cold and silent and empty when he steps in, but he's glad to be home.

He heads directly upstairs, and staggers into the bedroom, dropping his jacket and hoodie onto the floor. He kicks his shoes off next, then flops down on the bed, literally feeling any energy he'd thought he'd had drain from him as soon as his head hits the pillow. He's asleep before he can even turn the bedside lamp out.

* * *

_TBC_


	8. Chapter 8

_**8 is finally up... This one took a while, sorry. Thanks so much for the feedback; it means so much! One last chapter left after this. Special thanks to LittleBounce. Hugs! Hope you all enjoy...**_

* * *

Nick's phone, blaring loudly in his pocket, pulls him from a deep sleep. He digs it out, vaguely registering he's still fully clothed, and puts it to his ear.

"Mm'ello?"

"Nick."

Here we go... Shaena's tone is clipped in that no-nonsense voice he'd mostly seen Lily on the receiving end of. But he'd been there a couple of times too.

"Good morning," he mutters, trying to shake the sleep from his brain. He sits up gingerly, wincing at the painful twinge in his chest.

"Why the hell did you leave the hospital?"

"Look, Shae – "

"You know what?" she cuts him off, "I don't want to hear it. I'll be over in half an hour." She hangs up with a decisive click. Nick sits dumbly on the edge of the bed for a minute, listening to the dial tone. Well… That was interesting. Nice wake up call.

He showers carefully, grumbling in frustration at how difficult toweling his hair dry one-handedly turns out to be, then heads downstairs. If he's going to get read the riot act again (second time in one week for god's sake), he's going to need coffee. His phone rings again as he's leaning against the kitchen counter, waiting for the machine to cooperate.

"Burkhardt."

"Nick, I swear to god, I'm going to kill you."

"Good morning to you too, Hank."

"This is not funny, man."

"Look," Nick sighs, "After what happened last night, I couldn't just lay there, dammit. Think about it."

It's Hank's turn to sigh. He sounds exhausted. "Fine… But no more of that lone ranger crap, you hear me? You're taking it easy and letting us figure it out. I mean it, Nick."

"Alright, alright. I get it. Hey, you okay? Shaena told me you got roughed up."

Hank grunts noncommittally. "Not the first time I've been smacked around. I'll live. Go sit down because I know you're up and about. Now."

With that he hangs up, and the dial tone fills Nick's ears for the second time that morning. Can't people just offer a decent goodbye? Jesus. Shaena's abrupt hang up stings a little. Brings back a few unwanted memories.

The doorbell rings.

Nick limps over and tugs the front door open. Shaena has already adopted the telltale lecture posture, hands on her hips, lips pursed. Her brow furrows in concern, and that lasts about a millisecond, then she just looks… murderous.

"What are you doing up?"

Nick lets out a frustrated sigh and goes back into the kitchen. People have really got to stop asking him that. There's nothing wrong with his legs. He hears her try not to slam the front door behind her.

"Coffee?" he offers wearily, ignoring the question.

"Yes, please," she replies curtly. He pours her a cup, and nods to the living room. She sits down in an arm chair, and takes a sip, looking like she's getting her thoughts straight.

Nick lowers himself down onto the couch slowly, aware she's watching his every move like a hawk. He tries to disguise the wince. "Shaena, I'm just going to say this, so please let me."

She nods.

"They were going to let me out in a couple of days anyway. But after last night… I don't expect you to understand. I can't help Lily if I'm laid up in a hospital bed. "

Shaena just shakes her head. "You can't help her if you're not well. Have you looked in the mirror?"

"Thanks," he mutters. Then smiles. "I can take care of myself, Shae."

She narrows her eyes at him. "I know that. Don't even start. "

"Are you okay?"

She takes another sip of coffee. "Yes. I will be. I have to give a statement in a little while."

"I'll go with you."

"No, you can stay here and rest. I can take care of myself, Nick." She raises an eyebrow at him. Touché.

Nick leans back gingerly against the couch cushions. The pain is starting to flare back up in his chest again.

"The nurse at the front desk who kindly informed me you had decided to leave…" she pulls a small, white paper bag out of her purse, "Gave me a copy of the prescription for these too. She must have known you wouldn't bother stopping by the pharmacy, huh?"

Painkillers. So maybe those had slipped his mind last night. Nick stifles a yawn.

"I'd better get going," she says, taking her cup into the kitchen and putting it in the sink. Nick has just pulled himself up off the couch when she gets back and heads to the front door. Man, he hates feeling so slow.

"I'll call you, " she says meaningfully, and heads back out to her car.

When she's gone, Nick retreats to the living room, eyeing the painkillers on the coffee table dubiously. If he wants to get anything done today… those are going to have to wait.

* * *

Rosalee gets the kitchen door open with her elbow, arms full of groceries. She bustles into the front of the spice shop, setting them on the counter briefly and peers into the back room.

"Monroe?"

There's the sound of rustling and then his muffled voice reaches her ears, "Be there in a minute!" She waits, and he appears exactly a minute later, looking quite grumpy.

Rosalee sighs. "Monroe, I know you don't approve of Nick's decision… But I think he knows what he's doing." And she truly believes that. Okay, _sometimes_ she believes that.

"Yeah," Monroe huffs, joining her on the other side of the counter. "Forgive me for questioning his judgment on this one."

Rosalee reaches up and cups a hand to his face. "I'm heading over there right now," she grins, "I'll make sure he knows just what you think."

"You do that," he snorts, leaning in and placing a kiss on her forehead. "Let me…" He helps her carry the grocery bags out to her car down the street and waves her off.

Monroe is probably right. Sure, Nick can take care of himself… Maybe not in his current state though. Rosalee smiles sadly to herself. He's already got Hank, Monroe, his police captain no doubt and Shaena on his back; she's going to go for a different, gentler approach. Maybe he'll open up a little more that way.

Rosalee turns onto Nick's street. And she'd thought there were enough Wesen problems in Portland alone… She'd met Shaena briefly yesterday when Monroe had enlisted in her to explain the more technical biological details on Wesen. Shaena had told Rosalee about her stepbrother and younger sister. Not much, but enough. And Rosalee had felt for her. A pretty horrible situation to get caught up into. Especially with Hundjäger.

Rosalee grabs the bags from the front seat and jogs up the steps to Nick's house, precariously juggling with them to get the door unlocked with the spare key Nick had given Monroe a couple weeks ago.

"Hey, Nick," she greets cheerfully, dropping the bags onto the kitchen table with a loud thud and discarding her hat and scarf in a heap on one of the chairs. "What are you doing up?"

Nick waves bleakly at her from where he's leaning against the counter, wearily eyeing the distance between them. Rosalee joins him there, placing a swift peck on his cheek, then holds him out at arm's length.

"When's your next dose of painkillers?" She asks expectantly, finding his gaze and holding it.

Nick loses the stare off and looks down. "Already took them," he mutters, ducking his head as he goes to sink down into one of the kitchen chairs.

"Nick," Rosalee says gently, as she sits down across from him, "You don't look good. I know your priority is to find Lily – that's what we all want – but you need to take it easy. Just for a couple of days. Hank is doing everything he can."

Nick sighs, wincing a little, and nods. He looks lost in thought for a moment. Rosalee lays a gentle hand on his arm.

"Will you at least lie down?"

Surprisingly, he lets her guide him to the couch and gently help him lay down on it. Rosalee stands to head back into the kitchen but his fingers brush against her wrist.

"Yes?"

"Would you… stay? A bit?"

Rosalee gives him a small smile and settles into the armchair facing the couch. "Monroe's in a bit of a tizzy, you know."

Nick snorts quietly.

"He can't believe how stubborn you are."

"Not stubborn," Nick murmurs.

"Oh yes, you are," she smiles fondly. "You're probably not going to get away with this one."

"Yeah… Phone's been ringing all day. Mostly death threats."

"Checking yourself out wasn't exactly the smartest, huh?"

Nick gives a little one shouldered shrug. "How are things at the shop?"

Rosalee lets the change of subject slide. What's done is done, and it seems Nick has already had his fair share of berating for the day. "Surprisingly well. Partly because Monroe's there to help out. Things wouldn't be the same without him I think."

"You going to stay in Portland now?"

Rosalee smiles to herself. Not too long ago, she couldn't wait to be rid of the spice shop and all the memories it brought back. Now, she can't imagine herself without it, and the people she's met along the way.

Then, Nick finally smiles. "Not sure we could live without you over here now."

* * *

Hank stares blearily out the front windshield, surveying the precinct steps for Wu. The last few nights had been pretty much sleepless, and that seems to be catching up with him now. He prays this shakedown will actually bring some new, useful information on Cyrus McAvoy. Maybe even on Lily's whereabouts.

Juggling both cases at once has started to look like one hell of a struggle. He'd hit a dead end with the Kent Anderson case - the body found in the forest just a week ago. And it's driving him nuts. But what's keeping him awake at night is the thought of Lily, still at the hands of her suddenly psychopathic older brother. She reminds Hank of Carly.

Then there's Nick. Goddammit. Hank feels his grip around the steering wheel tighten. He couldn't just stay in the hospital like a normal person and wait until he could actually stay on his feet longer than an hour before checking himself out. Granted, Nick isn't your average person… But he's sure not invincible.

Before Hank has the chance to get truly angry all over again, he sees Wu sauntering over. He sidles into the passenger seat.

"Alright, let's do this," the sergeant says in his perpetually unimpressed tone, quirking a half smile. Hank just grunts and pulls out toward the 405.

"Rough night?" Wu finally breaks the silence.

Hank blows out a sigh, keeping his eyes on the road. "Not much of a night really."

"You okay?"

"I would feel a hell of a lot better if Nick wasn't so stubborn."

"He checked himself out, right?" He doesn't sound surprised. Weary almost.

"Oh, and he's not done hearing from me."

Wu shrugs. "Cut him some slack. He's got a girl to protect right? Can't blame him for her safety coming first."

"She's not his girl. They've got some history, but she came to him because he's a cop. It wasn't safe for her to stay where she was."

"Weird."

Hanks swallows, knowing they're getting close to Grimm conversation boundaries. He needs to change the subject.

Wu continues, frowning slightly. "Why would she come all the way out here? Portland isn't the only city blessed with a police force. Lots of us around."

"Like I said, she couldn't stay in San Francisco. Maybe she felt more comfortable with someone she knew. Nick's met the stepbrother before and knows Shaena's little sister."

"First name basis, huh?"

"We're here," Hank pulls up in front of a rundown white house, overgrown yard just barely contained by an ugly metal fence.

"You sure this is the place?" Wu asks, following him up the steps to the front porch. "Looks like no one's been here for a while..."

"Last known address for…" Hank checks the name on his notepad, "Darren Wright."

Wu gets that puzzled frown again. "You know, I'm not sure why, but that name's just ringing this little bell in my head."

Hank shrugs and knocks on the door. They wait a while, and are just about to go around the back when it swings open. A harassed looking man with messy hair and a two day beard greets them, a little less than friendly.

"What do you want?"

"So that's why," Wu mutters in recognition. "Nice to see you again!"

Wright's eyes go wide, and he tries to lunge back into the house, but Hank wraps a hand around his bicep, stopping him short.

"Got somewhere to be? We just want to ask you a few questions," he shoves the guy back inside, sitting him down on the couch. Hank and Wu stand in front of him, hands at their belts.

The guy's eyes keep darting across the room, looking for an escape. "Listen… I don't know what you want, but I didn't do anything – "

"Still sneaking around planes, Darren?" Wu asks.

Wright shifts nervously on the couch, "Look, I did my time for that, paid the fine… I told your friend I was sorry, jeez. What do you want from me?"

"Hold up," Hank says, aware he's missing something. "So you guys know each other?"

Wright looks down, so Wu answers, turning to Hank, "A couple months ago, we caught him snooping around Twin Oaks Airpark. Franco found him first and got knocked around for it…"

Hank turns back to Darren, who had finally decided trying to run probably wouldn't be the smartest decision. "What were you doing there?"

Wu folds his arms. "Nothing, probably, except building his little business. Darren here is a bottom feeder. Apart from smacking cops and finding places for _other_ people to get up to no good, he's not one of this life's big threats."

Darren looks away. Hank changes tactics. "Heard about your buddy Cyrus yet?" This gets a reaction. A panicked one.

"What the fuck does he have to do with this?"

Hank feels his heart beat faster. Maybe they're getting somewhere. "He was killed yesterday."

Darren cringes almost imperceptibly.

"We found out a couple things about him. And found you were connected. Now I suggest you tell us what the hell you were doing in that hangar."

Darren's eyes flit to the gun at Hank's belt, then to the ground. Hank takes a step forward.

"Ok, look! I got out of that a while ago. Just after Cyrus went AWOL. It was easy money. All I had to do was find empty places… Like warehouses and shit."

"When was the last time he contacted you?"

Darren shakes his head. Hank grips him by the shirt. "There's a girl's life at stake here, so I suggest you cough it up."

"Five days ago," Darren concedes, inching away.

When Nick got shot... "What did he want?"

"One of my locations."

"Which one did you give him?"

Darren looks uncomfortable. "He didn't use any of the ones I gave him this time. Usually calls me back to arrange a cash-drop once he's found the place, but I never heard from him. So three days later, I decided to call him back. He owed me the money. But when I called the number, the operator told me it didn't exist anymore."

"We're going to need a list of all those locations. Now."

On the drive back to the precinct, Wu reads over the list of sites, shaking his head. There are nine of them. Problem is, at each site, are eight possible locations.

"Damn… These are from all over the West coast and North of the country. With more than a third from the Portland area. How are we going to narrow it down?"

Hank doesn't know.

"How long's the girl been missing?"

"Nine days. We know who she's with… Just not how long he's going to have the patience to keep her alive."

Hank calls Nick, who answers on the second ring, voice quiet. "Burkhardt."

"Nick, we've got some leads. But I'm not sure it gets us further than we were before." There's a sigh on the other end of the line.

"What have you got?"

"About seventy possible locations."

Nick swears. "You alone?"

Hank shoots a sideways glance at Wu, who's still soaking in the exorbitant number of places they have to check out. "No."

"Then just listen. Hundjäger are trained assassins. They don't leave things to chance. He'll have a plan. Look for places with multiple exits, complicated passages. Power plants or old theaters. Car repair garages... Aircraft hangars have too much open space."

Hank nods, feeling his spirits drop. They really haven't got much of a lead after all. "We're going to check which warehouses up in the NW Industrial are still occupied."

There's a pause, like Nick is trying to catch his breath. "Any calls to… the cellphone found on Cyrus' body since last night?"

"No... I'm thinking Grayson knows the guy's dead. Watch your back, Nick."

* * *

Nick pinches the bridge of his nose, squeezing his eyes shut and sighing. The words in the report in his hand are starting to blur, so he tosses it back onto the pile of files and pictures spread haphazardly across the coffee table. He'd given up on sleep around six that morning, moved to the couch, then dozed restlessly there for a couple of hours before poring through the stack of files he had on Grayson and anything related that could prove vital. All that had achieved was his brain running in circles and giving him a monumental headache. He leans over, gritting his teeth at the pull in his chest, and flips off the lamp by the couch, the midday light filtering in through the living room window sufficient to read by. Lily's smiling face stares up at him from the table top: she's dressed in a pink sweater, straight blond hair combed to sleek perfection for a school portrait. Such a sweet kid. He'd related to her when they'd first met, having been able to tell losing her mom was still hitting her hard.

A clattering noise from outside makes him jump. Back of the house. Heart racing, he grabs his gun off the coffee table and creaks to his feet, limping over to the back door.

He pulls it open silently, then pads down the steps, onto the grass, scanning the yard. Doesn't look like anyone, or anything is there. Then… footsteps. Soft against the grass. Two sets. Gun up, he keeps to the side of the house, and rounds the corner to the front―

"Don't shoot! Don't shoot!" Bud squeaks, leaping a mile and dropping an armful of things to the ground to clutch his chest. Nick feels his pulse go through the roof, then, strangely, finds himself staring up at the blue sky, flat on his back in the grass.

"For fuck's sake, Bud…" he mutters, struggling to get up, and failing.

Bud races over, still woging in and out of Eisbiber. Another familiar face, looking appropriately horrified, pops out from behind Bud's shoulder. Bridger.

"Jesus, is all of Portland this nuts?" he bends over and carefully helps Nick back up while Bud is busy hyperventilating, the fur in his neck puffing up at odd moments.

"Nick, I – I'm so sorry," the older Biber gasps. "We wanted to see you because we heard you were hurt! We thought we'd check the back in case you were maybe sleeping, we didn't want to wake you, y'know and, well, then we―"

"_Bud_. It's okay…" Nick struggles to put some volume into his voice, breathless. The pain in his chest is curling its way around his lungs now, squeezing tightly.

The Eisbiber starts gathering the fallen stuff back into his arms, repeatedly dropping half and picking it up again.

"You okay?" Bridger asks nervously, hooking Nick's arm over his shoulders, thankfully, just as his legs turn to rubber.

They all stumble back into the house, Bud, still muttering a string of distressed apologies, bringing up the rear. Bridger lowers Nick onto the couch. "Sorry, kid - awkward," he mutters through a wince.

"Don't you have painkillers or something, dude?"

Taking them seems inevitable now. Nick feels himself sinking lower into the couch. "Bathroom counter… Do me a favor? Get Bud a paper bag before he passes out on us..?" He catches the flash of a grin before the kid darts into the hallway.

A dose of painkillers later (and Bud looking a little more composed, albeit slumped in an armchair), Nick offers Bridger the seat next to him on the couch.

"Sorry about that, guys… Working on a case. The suspect's still on the loose; you can never be too careful."

Bud smiles guiltily. "You were just doing your job! But, hey," he shuffles over to the door to retrieve the stuff he'd placed there when they'd made it back into the house. "When we heard what happened, back at the Lodge, we all put this together for you…" He returns with three baskets full of pies, fruit and wine and places them on the floor by the couch.

Never ending Biber generosity. "Thank you, Bud. That was very… thoughtful of you all."

Bridger, who'd fallen silent on the other end of the couch, speaks up timidly. "Who's that?" Nick follows his gaze to the picture of Lily still laid out of the coffee table.

"Her name's Lily. She was kidnapped… We're trying to get her back."

"How did you get hurt?" Bridger asks, unabashed. Bud starts wringing his hands again.

"Someone didn't want me to find her."

* * *

Nick glances at the clock. 9 pm. It's already dark outside, and Shaena said she'd be back by now... He crosses into the living room, then stops at the sound of footsteps on the porch.

Then there's frantic pounding on the door, followed by a familiar, pleading voice.

"Nick? Open up!"

Nick sighs and pulls the door open. Bridger, all bundle of nervous energy there on his doorstep, trips headfirst into the front hallway at his feet. He straightens, dusts himself off, then words are spilling out of his mouth at rate that makes Nick's head spin. Nick holds up his good hand, then, when the kid doesn't take the hint, gently slaps it over his mouth.

"Talk. Slowly. Okay?" This is probably going to take a while. "Come inside." Nick removes his hand and nods toward the living room. Bridger takes a deep breath, ducking his head as he shuffles into the house.

Nick lowers himself down onto the couch; Bridger doesn't sit, obviously too agitated about what he has to say. He stands on the other side of the coffee table, wringing his hands. "There's this old lot by the water. With those big rusty buildings and old industrial stuff? At the edge of… Linnton Park, near some bridge…"

"St. Johns?"

"Yeah, that one! The guys showed it to me. They go there to hang out, y'know?" Bridger really needs to hang with the kids from the Lodge, not the local Fuchsbau punks. Nick motions for him to continue.

"Well, I was early meeting them there, and I saw this man... With a girl."

Nick sits up straighter and tries to keep his voice even. "What did they look like?"

Bridger is still practically jumping up and down. "Well, that's why I came to you. The guy, he had dark brown hair, was all in black. Real creepy looking. And the girl... Long blond hair. Wearing a pink sweater? Well, get this, she looked exactly like that girl in the picture you showed me!"

Nick stands, probably too quickly, because he grabs the kid's shoulder harder than intended. He gives him a quick shake. "_Stay away from there_, you hear me? It's not safe."

Bridger looks a bit stunned, but nods, staring up at him with wide, blue eyes.

"Go home to your parents, okay?"

"Yeah… I-I'm sorry. Hope you find her okay," Bridger heads back to the door.

"Thank you," Nick calls after him. Bridger offers him a quick nod and the hint of a smile, then he's gone. Nick sinks back down onto the couch, pulling his cellphone out of his pocket.

He dials Hank.

* * *

_TBC_


	9. Chapter 9

**_Here is the last chapter, folks. Sorry it took me forever to get up! Especially because I left you guys hanging just a bit..._**

**_I want to give a huge thanks to all those who followed, favorited and reviewed. It means a lot and kept me going when my inspiration and/or confidence deserted me! Special thanks to LittleBounce (you are incredible!), __Morena Evensong__, S.A.N.e-but-inS.A.N.e, 1983Sarah and miguard for sticking with me through every chapter and being so encouraging! I also want to thank __booboo, my sweet guest reviewer, who I can't thank by PM._**

**_So with that... I hope you all enjoy this last installment!_**

* * *

The phone rings and rings.

"C'mon…" Nick mutters under his breath, "Pick up, dammit."

He gets Hank's voicemail. Slightly breathless, Nick leaves a message, trying to keep his voice even. "Hank… Call me as soon as you get this… I know where Lily is."

He drops his phone onto the coffee table and runs a hand through his hair, getting his thoughts together. Going in headfirst without thinking isn't going to help any of them, no matter how bad they want Lily back safe. Right now they have an advantage over Grayson, knowing where he's keeping her. Hank just needs to answer his damn cell… And where the hell is Shaena? The key turns in the lock.

"Nick?" Shaena. Nick blows out the breath he hadn't realized he was holding. She makes her way into the living room. "Sorry, I was with Rosalee – hey, you okay?"

Nick takes a deep breath, asks her to sit. She does, looking scared. Her voice is quiet, "Nick, you're scaring me… Is it Lily?"

"I know where she is."

Shaena comes off her seat. "You know―?... W-what's going to happen now?"

"Shae. Sit down. I called Hank… Got his voicemail."

Shaena doesn't regain her seat, bringing a hand to her forehead. "Okay, okay… Try him again." She starts pacing, driving him completely nuts, but he doesn't say anything.

Nick knows it would take very little for him to be incapacitated by Grayson and unable to help Lily at all. He battles internally, completely torn. Should they just go while they're one step ahead? Helplessness and frustration build up again. Nick snatches his cell back up off the table and tries Hank again. Voicemail. He takes a deep breath. He even tries Renard, with the same result. What high priority case could have them both unavailable?

They're both silent for a few moments, Shaena still lost in thought, Nick very close to smashing his cell against the nearest wall.

Then Shaena's phone rings. Her brow furrows slightly, and she murmurs, "Unknown caller…"

Nick nods, only half listening. "Okay… Speakerphone."

"Good evening, Shaena." Nick's head snaps up, and Shaena tenses.

"Grayson."

"Tell me," he drawls through the speaker, "How is Nick doing?"

Shaena's frown deepens. "He's fine. Just fine."

"How nice to hear… I bet you're glad to have your new band of brothers ready to do your dirty work?"

"Sorry?"

"Oh, Shae. Don't do that. You know what I mean. What was it like to watch them shoot someone you've known since your childhood?" There's the hint of smile in his voice.

Nick sits up straighter. Grayson doesn't know _who_ killed Cyrus… He motions for Shaena's attention. To work with this, stay that one step ahead.

But she seems to have already understood, and is looking suddenly more confident. "Oh, you mean Cyrus? There were only two people around when he was killed. And the cop was in no state to pull the trigger… So it's a good thing I was."

There's pause on the other end of the line, and the only sound for a few seconds is Grayson's accelerating breathing.  
"You surprise me." Something has changed in his voice when speaks again ― the tiniest falter. Clearly, Grayson hadn't seen this coming. "We're not that different after all I guess."

"I'm not sure Cyrus would agree."

There's loud bang on the other end of the line, like something heavy being knocked over, and then the faintest growl. Shaena's knuckles go white on the arms of her chair.

"How would you like to talk to Lily?" Grayson snarls, and there are more sounds of objects being thrown. Then there's a scream. Young, high, terrified. Lily.

"Grayson!"

Nick puts a hand up, locking eyes with Shaena. Stay calm.

"Sh-shae?" Lily sobs suddenly into the phone. "Please , Gray. Stop… Stop!" She screams again.

Grayson's voice comes back onto the line, "You could have made this so much easier on yourself." The line goes dead.

Shaena stays frozen, staring at the phone for several moments. In a split second's decision, Nick pockets his phone and pulls himself off the couch, grabbing his gun and badge from the coffee table. Shaena finally looks up at him.

"Wh-what are you doing?"

"We're going. Now."

* * *

They drive in silence, Shaena at the wheel. She grips it tightly, mind reeling. Nick is tense in the passenger seat, jaw set, staring at his cellphone in his lap. Every few minutes, he tries Hank again. Still no luck. Shaena is having a hard time keeping the panic at bay. What the hell are they going to do this time around?

Now and then, Nick gives her directions, points to the road to follow, and pretty soon they come to the entrance of a vast industrial park, near the base of a bridge. Empty, quiet and dark, like a ghost town, the only lights coming from the distant freeway to their left.

Shaena eases to 10 mph as she pulls through the gates into the warehouse lot. Her heart sinks at the number of buildings spreading out as far as she can see through the front windshield.

"Okay, pull over there…" Nick says, eyes furtively scanning the dark grounds. Shaena stops the car by the edge of the fence, in the shadows, and turns the engine off. She turns to Nick, who is gingerly sliding his arm out of the sling.

"Nick…"

He stops her with a short gesture. "You keep trying Hank, okay?"

They'd taken Nick's car, leaving her more conspicuous, white Toyota parked outside his house. He pulls the glove compartment open, rummaging through it for something with his good hand. He pulls out a small handgun.

"I want you to take this."

Shaena swallows hard. She never wanted to touch a gun again after what happened with Cyrus. He places it in her palm, holding his hand over hers and the gun for a few seconds.

"Just a precaution. I'm sorry."

They climb out of the car, and she waits as Nick walks around the back and hauls something out of the trunk. A Kevlar vest.

Shaena frowns, wondering how he's going to be able to even get it on. She approaches. "Let me help."

He nods, looking slightly defeated, and Shaena pulls the velcro straps up on the left side. It's heavy and tricky to fit over Nick's head, but they manage, and he feeds his arm through the right hole easily. The left takes longer. Nick clings to the side of the car for a few seconds when he's finally strapped in, breathing hard.

"You going to be okay?" Shaena asks. Her voice sounds foreign to her ears, slightly strained.

Nick nods curtly. "Let's go."

They set off down the line of huge, dark warehouses, keeping to the shadows hemming the glare from garish orange lamps. After only a few yards, Nick stops so suddenly in front of her, she nearly smacks straight into him.

"What is it?" she whispers, tightening her grip around the small handgun. Nick motions for her to be quiet, then points to something in the dirt just outside the ring of shadows. Tire tracks. Too thin for a car… A motorbike.

They follow the tracks at a quickened pace, then hit the edge of a block of warehouses, and Nick stops her to peer around the corner first, gun drawn, then waves her over. They step out of the shadows and into a pool of light shed by a lamppost, illuminating a small alley between two of the buildings. Shaena has to squint in the fading light to follow the tire marks with her eyes.

They stop at a door in the building opposite them.

Nick turns to say something to her, but they both freeze when a scream shatters the silence. It's muffled like it's coming from far inside the building, but hangs loud and intrusive in the noiseless night, sending a cold shiver of dread up Shaena's spine. Nick grabs her by the hand and pulls her back around the corner and into the shadows.

"Shae," he whispers, shooting a glance over his shoulder. "Get back in the car, lock the doors and wait there. Okay?"

She holds onto his hand a bit longer. "What are you going to do?"

For the first time ever, she could swear Nick looks unsure. And that scares her.

"Just get a hold of Hank. I don't care how many times you have to call him." He gives her hand a slight squeeze and nods for her to go.

She sets off, turning just in time to see Nick disappear around the corner again, then sprints the rest of the way to the car. She locks it quickly, and settles low in the front seat, trying to calm her racing heart. And stop seeing movement in every shadow outside.

The Glock feels heavy and cold in her hand.

There's a long, quiet moment, where all she can hear is her slightly over rapid breathing, then she digs out her cellphone and punches in Hank's number, praying against all odds that he'll answer this time.

The phone rings, and rings—

"Griffin."

. . . . . . . . .

Nick creeps through the door to the warehouse, gun drawn. His normally steadying double-handed grip is getting counterproductive with the way his left is shaking, chest burning from the effort of holding that arm up. He switches to just his right hand, less secure under normal circumstances, but the safest option here for a steady shot if he has to fire. A long passageway stretches out before him, bare, rusting pipes lining the walls. He edges further inside, the lamplight from outside slowly dimming as he presses on.

Something at the edges of his hearing stops him short. He strains to hear the sound again through the roaring in his ears... There. A soft sound, like a whimper, to his right a couple feet behind. He backtracks, listening carefully, but it's gone.

"I'm impressed you found me so soon." The low voice cuts through the silence.

Nick freezes, senses kicking into overdrive as he tries to locate it. Scratching footsteps in the dirt, the rustle of clothing. He draws in a calming breath, then replies slowly. "You need to get a little more creative with your 'hideouts'."

There's an icy chuckle, definitely closer now. "Never underestimate who you're up against." Behind him. "It's what will get you killed."

A hand on his left shoulder, his bad shoulder, spins him around and smashes him back first into the piping. Nick feels himself slipping, but a coarse haired forearm is pressed against his throat, keeping him upright.

There's a low growl, hot breath against his neck. "You make this so easy."

Nick struggles against the forearm pinning him to the wall. "We're surrounded by cops, Grayson," he lies, "There's an easier way out of this."

Grayson scoffs, and Nick catches the faintest glint of canines. "I'd love to believe that. But seeing how it turned out for you last time... Forgive my scepticism."

"So what are you going to do? Kill me, Lily, then Shaena? Then what? That's something you know you're not going to walk away from."

Grayson growls loudly, tossing Nick to the ground. The gun leaves his grip, dropping to the dirt and Nick lands on top, trapping it under his back.

"Then what?! This will all be over, " the Hundjäger snaps, pinning Nick to the floor with a knee to his chest. Nick's vision goes a little a gray… Keep him talking_._

"... Those reapers are just going to let you leave?"

Grayson snaps his teeth close to Nick's face. "I see you've done your research. Good. But that part is none of your concern."

. . . . . . . . . . .

"Hank! Oh my god..." Shaena grips the phone so tightly the plastic creaks.

Hank sounds instantly worried. "Shaena? What's going on?"

She tries to give the clearest, shortest description of their situation, eyes darting from the alley, to the shadows and back. "We know where Lily is – Nick found out where she is! You need to come right now… Nick's already inside."

Hank swears loudly into the phone, then there's the sound of him shouting orders to someone on his end of the line, then movement, jogging sounds.

"Okay, just stay where you are. We'll be there in five. How long has Nick been in there?" A siren is switched on, and there's the sound of a car starting.

"Maybe five minutes…"

"Dammit. Okay. You call me right back if anything goes wrong, you got it?"

"Hank," Shaena strains to talk past the lump in her throat. "Grayson knows I…killed Cyrus. He's desperate. I don't know what he'll do."

"We're almost there, Shaena. Almost there."

. . . . . . . . . . .

Nick stops struggling under Grayson's knee, hoping to calm his movements, then catch him off guard.

"Since you're so curious about what happens to Lily, how about I show you just what I was planning?"

Nick takes his only chance. An opening, as Grayson bends to grip the Kevlar collar and yank him upright. Nick brings his knee up hard, ramming it into Grayson's sternum, knocking him back. He twists, snatching his gun back up and stands, leveling it on Grayson, who is recovering with frightening speed and getting back to his feet. He cocks his head to the side.

"Are you going to shoot me again?" He smirks. "The first time wasn't lesson enough?"

Nick takes an unsteady step back. He's right. The bullet Grayson had taken just a few days doesn't seem to be hindering his movements in the slightest. Still, Nick doesn't step down. "Stay where you are." His brain reels. Was this a terrible idea? Has he done more harm to their chances of getting Lily back than good? If he has to fire and misses... The bullet could ricochet. The vest is heavy on his shoulders, weighing him down almost. He has near perfect aim, that he knows. But the odds seem a little bit out of his hands right now.

Grayson makes a condescending tsk sound. "You can't win like this."

"What do you want, Grayson?"

This makes him pause, and Nick knows he hit a nerve. "What's it to you, Nick? You'll be dead in a few minutes." Somehow, the words are spoken the slightest bit less confidently.

"If I've got to die for something, I want to know why," Nick says carefully, playing along.

Grayson locks eyes with him in the dim light. He blinks a couple of times. "I get to start over. Wouldn't want anyone from the past coming to drag me down, would I?"

"Is that what your reapers told you?"

Grayson doesn't answer, but twitches, agitation seeping back into his demeanor. Nick discreetly takes another step back. "I've had some experience with reapers. Not exactly the most trustworthy types."

A low growl fills the confined space, "You're wasting my time."

Nick tightens his grip on the gun. "Don't, Grayson."

The Hundjäger gnashes his teeth. "Too late." He roars, throwing himself at Nick and knocking him to the side.

The shot goes off.

. . . . . . . . . .

Shaena's head snaps up and toward the direction of the sound. Gunshot. No doubt about it. Behind her, there's the sound of tires crunching the gravel and dirt, sirens and flashing lights disturbing the once dead night. She sees Hank, and bolts from the car.

"Shaena! You okay?" he grips her by the shoulders, looking her up and down. She grasps his forearms.

"Hank, you need to do something! Th-there was a shot fired, just now. Nick's in a vest, but he needs help."

Hank gives her shoulders a squeeze, "_Thank you_," and jogs back to the mass of squad cars and emergency vehicles that have pulled into the lot. Nick's captain exits a huge, black SUV, and strides purposefully toward an open SWAT van. Why aren't they doing anything yet?!

That shot can't have been for Nick... _Just can't_. She waits rooted to the spot, watching the alley between the warehouses for a sign. Anything.

Whatever SWAT is supposedly doing is taking too fucking long. And there's still no sign of Lily. No sign of Nick.

* * *

Nick shoves Grayson's dead weight off of him with shaking arms, and rolls him onto his back on the floor. His eyes are open and unseeing, the permanent look of hatred etched into his features smoothed out only in death.

The world takes a few seconds to right itself as Nick stands, holstering his gun, then he staggers off in the direction he'd first heard Lily, a few feet closer to the edge of the passageway. He feels along the wall for a gap, a window, something… then comes to a single door, completely camouflaged in the rusted piping, and presses his ear against it.

Silence.

He leans back heavily against the wall, breathing hard. It will be impossible to find her in this maze. Or too late when he finally does. The thought makes him sick.

Then he hears it. The same, distant whimper. Coming from the other side of the wall. He slams into the room, the rusting door swinging open reluctantly under his weight.

Lily's small form is huddled in one darker corner, knees pulled up to her chin, blond hair splayed down her back and hiding her face. She's completely still. He lurches over and crouches down in front of her. Please be okay... His head spins as he fumbles for a pulse against the cold skin of her neck.

A soft, gentle rhythm thumps against his fingertips. Thank god. "Lily?"

She stirs slightly, making a confused little sound, but doesn't answer. Brushing her hair out of her face, Nick uncovers her closed eyes and pale cheeks stained with grime and tear tracks. There's blood in her hair and trickling down her forehead, bright red and recent. She mumbles softly, more intelligible this time - something that sounds like Shaena's name.

Nick places a gentle hand on the top of her head, getting himself together. "Let's get you out of here."

Lily is very light, but lifting her into his arms sends a bolt of pain through his chest and left shoulder, and he has to lean against the wall for a moment, letting the stars exploding before his eyes clear before setting off toward the exit. He ducks back under low piping, gritting his teeth against the strain, as Lily stirs against his shoulder. When he looks down, her eyes are open. She blinks owlishly up at him.

"N…N-Nick?"

"Yeah, you okay, Lily?" He stumbles a little.

"I can walk…" she murmurs. "...Nick? Really?"

Carefully, he sets her on her feet, and wraps an arm around her, just in case.

The cold night air hits him like a brick wall when they finally make it outside, and they're greeted with an overwhelming jumble of flashing red and blue lights and shouting voices.

"Lily!" Shaena's reaches his ears and he looks up to see three of her running towards them. He blinks a couple of times, letting go of Lily, and Shaena wraps her in a tight, desperate hug.

"Oh God... Are you okay?" Her voice quivers. Realization seems to finally hit home, because Lily starts sobbing into Shaena's jacket, clinging to her with shaking hands. Nick waves a paramedic over, who gently peels Lily away from her sister and guides her over to an open ambulance. He watches them go, the red and blue flashing in the background turning everything into one dizzying blur.

"Nick?" Shaena's voice pulls him back. Almost. He nods, feeling relief wash over him in huge, draining wave. Shaena gives him a watery smile and wraps an her arms around him in an unexpected hug.

. . . . . . . . . . .

It's over. It's really over. Shaena can't decide whether to laugh or cry, on the verge of both. Her mind is still reeling, and it's only partially set in that Lily is safe and okay. And Grayson is dead. She'd heard the gunshot. For those terrifying minutes of silence afterwards, with no Nick reappearing around the corner, she had thought it was him who had been shot.

She hangs onto him a bit longer. "Thank you... so much," she whispers, finally able to talk past the tightness in her throat.

Nick leans into the hug fractionally but seems…detached. Far away. He doesn't answer, so she pulls away slightly to get a better look at his face.

'You feeling ok?' she almost asks, but soon sees how very obvious it is that he's not. His face has gone completely and frighteningly white, his eyes vacant. "Nick? Do you need help?"

He swallows thickly, looking unsteady. Then, his lips part like he's going to say something, but instead his eyes just slide shut and all of a sudden his full weight is dragging them both to their knees.

"Nick!"_  
_  
He slumps lower, chin to his chest, and forehead thumping against her shoulder. She tries her best to guide them both down smoothly, but Nick is heavy. Her kneecaps crack against the ground when they finally make it down. She knows what's wrong, that Nick is just exhausted and this last stunt probably pushed him way over his physical limits, but it doesn't make it less unnerving to see him so unresponsive, and doesn't slow her heart rate any to know that he'll be coming round soon.

"Nick...," she tries brushing a thumb across his cheek. "Talk to me."

He doesn't, eyes remaining closed, and the color doesn't return to his face. She wraps an arm around his back to hold him in place against her and looks up, frantically searching the mass of police officers and confusing mess flashing lights.

"Hank?... Hank!"

She relaxes fractionally when she sees him running over from her left. He gets down on his knees next to them just as Nick gives a muffled moan into her shoulder. Shaena cups the side of his face with one hand, steadying him.

"Nick?" Hank leans in. "You okay?"

Nick lifts an unconvincing thumbs up, face still pressed into Shaena's shoulder. Hank blows out a sigh and sits back on his heels, shaking his head. He rests a hand on the back of his partner's neck. "What part of 'lone ranger crap' don't you understand?"

* * *

Nick is pulled from his light doze on the couch by Shaena's footsteps coming back downstairs. The sling is back on, and he's pretty grateful for it, the deep ache from tonight's over-exertion dulled by the painkillers thumped into him back at the ED. They let him go once his blood pressure climbed back up to a decent level but Hank had regarded him suspiciously the whole way home. He wipes a hand down his face, trying to wake himself up a bit. Shaena slowly makes her way to the couch and sits down on the edge by his hip.

"How's Lily?" Nick asks quietly.

Shaena's bottom lip trembles slightly and she looks away. "She finally fell asleep. Still pretty shocked..." she trails off, drawing in a shuddering breath as tears slide down her cheeks.

Nick lays a hand on her arm. "Come here," he whispers, pulling her against his right shoulder. She curls into his side on the couch, crying quietly into his shirt. He rests a hand on her head, just holding her. After a few moments, she quiets, wiping her eyes, then tilts her head up to look at him.

Their eyes meet, searching. Their lips are barely inches apart. Close enough to touch. But Shaena just reaches up and briefly rests her hand against his face, then settles back against his shoulder. Nick sighs, his hand still against her head, thumb rubbing a gentle rhythm though her hair. He allows himself a small smile.

"A bit unexpected, huh?"

Shaena breathes a quiet laugh. "A bit, yeah."

"Crazy just how much things can change in six years."

Shaena looks up at him, suddenly serious. "You helped me... Even after what happened. And all those years, without even thinking. Thanking you just doesn't cut it..."

"I was just doing my job, Shae. Well… both my jobs."

Shaena smiles vaguely. "Y'know... When you left, I was sure I would never be able to forgive myself for it. But now... When I see the direction both our lives have taken, I can't see it being any other way."

Nick lets his head tip back against the armrest of the couch, staring at the ceiling. That rings so true to him now. And it doesn't hurt, surprisingly. In fact, Nick's sure he feels something akin to relief... Something settle in him. Something laid to rest. The time after he left, his years with Juliette – all that wasn't just rebounding, coping or recovering. The circumstances of their parting ways had felt uncertain before, the line between over and not-over blurred, when in reality, it had been the right decision all along.

Nick gives Shaena a brief, one-armed squeeze.

"You lead one crazy life, Nick Burkhardt," Shaena mumbles into his shoulder. That he does. She pulls away and sits back up, her gaze travelling to the stairs. "How do you do it?"

Nick regards her thoughtfully. "Sometimes I don't... But to be honest, in the beginning, I thought I was going crazy. Because you're the only one seeing these...people for who they really are, things can get pretty lonely. To start with, at least, it's not like I could just share my thoughts with friends over coffee. But the thing is, I'm never alone, now. Monroe, Rosalee, Hank..." Nick chuckles, "Bud."

Shaena shakes her head, wiping a hand down her face. "But how is Lily going to deal? I mean, now she that knows? She's seen what I have, and I still don't even know how to process it all. And I've had a little longer to get my head around it."

"She has you," Nick gives her a small smile, "So she'll be okay. And if it gets to be too much sometimes... Stay in touch with Hank. Best guy to talk to when it comes to your situation. You, Lily and Hank - you're all Kehrseite-slich-kennen."

Shaena turns back to him, eyebrows raised. "We're... what?"

"Humans who have seen wesen. Hank found out the hard way. And that was a while ago. But he only knows he's dealing with Wesen if I've told him beforehand. Even then, he can only see one woge if the person wants him to or is caught seriously off guard."

She seems to consider this. "So, it's not something I'm going to have to worry about all the time? Because I've got to tell you, it's going to be a little weird walking around waiting for someone to just randomly…wolf out on me. Or something."

Nick smiles reassuringly. "It's not going to be like that. For you, or Lily."

She seems to relax, if only a little, and gives a soft chuckle. "That's good to know… In my job, more than a few people would be wogeing at me daily. As much as we try, HR directors don't always bring the good news."

"I don't think it's going to be something Lily has to worry about on a daily basis," Nick muses out loud. "But she's going to need to understand what she's seen. Have you talked to your dad and Rebecca, yet?"

"They'll get in on the first flight tomorrow morning."

Nick nods. "You should get some rest, Shae... Things are going to be okay."

She stands, then leans over him, and places a gentle kiss on his forehead. "Thank you."

He watches her climb the stairs and disappear into the guest room. He'll get up to go to bed eventually too. But the couch seems pretty comfortable for the time being.

* * *

"Hank," Renard's calm voice calls across the squad room thirty minutes after he gets in. "My office, please."

Technically, he has the day off, but came in to meet Lily's parents. There was also the Kent Anderson case report that needed to be finished… But he's really just buying time. Hank leaves the page open on his computer and heads into Renard's office. Wu gives him a look that could pass for sympathy.

"Have a seat, Detective," Renard says coolly. "You and Nick seem to be on a bit of a disobedient streak…" He sits back in his chair, folding his hands neatly on the desktop. "I know you're here to for Lily's parents. But once that's over, I don't want to see you in here for the rest of the day. And Nick doesn't come back until his weeks of leave are up and he's cleared for duty."

Hank nods, "Yes, Sir." He counts to three, waits for a continuance that never comes, and gets up to leave.

"Oh, and Hank…" Renard's voice stops him. "Good work out there."

Hank is silently grateful for the day off as he makes his way back to his desk. Nick's empty chair is slightly turned towards him, his desk untouched since the last time he left. Which was… too long ago. Hank delves back into the Kent Anderson report on auto-pilot, making some last changes and hitting print.

The case had only hit the high priority status around nine the night before. Ex-Oregon Senator, Jonathan Freeman, had placed a frantic 911 call, claiming he was being held at gunpoint by an intruder. An intruder he knew, and whose name ― Melanie Anderson ― Hank felt could not be a coincidence. Wu and Franco were the first to respond the call on scene and had easily apprehended the suspect. Wu had had the same gut feeling, and called Hank. Given the new political angle of the case, Renard had needed to be present as well. Hank had taken Melanie aside, and discovered a desperate, grief stricken mother, mourning the recent loss of her only child, Kent, born from a secret affair twenty three years back with Senator Freeman.

It had in fact been kept a secret, until Kent's body had been found in the forest. Jonathan Freeman had reported being harassed by a blackmailer around the same time, but that case had only reached Hank's ears through hear say. He had no real cause to connect the two things.

The night before his body was found in the forest, Kent had gone to Jonathan Freeman, seeking to be recognized by his real father, but the man wouldn't have any of it, afraid of the repercussions on his reputation.

The blackmailer wasn't new to their books. He'd just never been caught. That is, until Wu found his body in the Senator's basement. The story of Jonathan Freeman's 'illegitimate' son would have made headlines, and Kent reappearing on Freeman's doorstep gave the blackmailer more to prey on. Hank can't help but feel bitter at the drastic measures the man had taken to keep his career spotless ― it was an unworthy guy that kept him away from his phone when he could've been there for Nick.

In between restraining Melanie Anderson from clawing out Freeman's eyes, and avoiding invasive, boundary-oblivious reporters, he'd missed each one of Nick and Shaena's calls, up until the very last. The ninth call, goddammit. He never misses a call.

After a mostly sleepless night and a little too much thinking, though, Hank knows Nick did the right thing going in there alone. Because, whether he likes it or not, there are going to be times where Nick can't call it in. And maybe he should give the guy some credit. Nick's _a lot_ tougher than he looks. It was scary as hell finding Nick so unresponsive after getting Lily back, but it took him only a few minutes to pick himself up off the ground after. Hank sighs.

Nick is okay. Stubborn, but okay. So long as he starts being a little more honest about when he's not feeling so tough, Hank can deal with the lone ranger stuff.

He's pulled from his thoughts by Wu waving a hand in front of his face. Hank raises an eyebrow at him.

"Don't you have the day off?" the sergeant asks, sitting down on the edge of the desk, thumping a stack of papers down in front of him. "These are yours. Left them in the printer."

"I told Nick I'd be the one to meet Lily Scott's parents here."

Wu claps a hand on Hank's shoulder. "They just got here; they're waiting in conference room one."

. . . . . . . . . . .

Rebecca Scott's eyes are bloodshot and a little wet when Hank greets them, but both parents look like they're keeping it together so far. James shakes his hand warmly, thanking him over and over again and Rebecca outright hugs him. She looks disbelieving, relieved and exhausted. She's Wesen, but that's pretty much all Hank had been able to gather about her from Nick. He's guessing she'd lost hope of getting Lily back from someone like Grayson. There had been a couple times he'd doubted too, but kept it to himself. Nick still finds ways to surprise him.

"Is Lily here?" Rebecca asks anxiously, searching for James' hand.

"They should get here very soon," Hank says reassuringly. "We can head outside."

They head down the precinct steps pretty much at the same time as Shaena's white Toyota pulls into the parking lot. Hank keeps his distance, watching the reunion from afar and letting James and Rebecca approach the car on their own.

Lily, blond hair pulled into a high ponytail, barely lets the car come to a full stop before pulling the door open and running straight into her father's outstretched arms. She'd only a few injuries to treat at the ED, the head wound being the worst. She was mostly bruised, hand shaped purple marks on her upper arms and shoulders. That, coupled with the knock to the head, gave Hank no doubt that she'd tried to get out of there – and more than once. A tough kid, really.

Shaena comes next, Rebecca meeting her halfway, and the two exchange a tight hug. Things aren't going to go back to normal instantly for Shaena and Lily, as much as Hank would wish that for them. The hurt and trauma linked to Grayson aside, they're going to have to deal with this new face of the world they've been unwillingly exposed to. Granted, finally _knowing_ about Wesen, instead of endlessly guessing and doubting is best, but it doesn't stop the questions. The fear. Hank is no expert, but he thinks it wouldn't hurt to offer to keep in touch, even if it's just for the occasional reassurance. The isolation that comes with their 'situation' is the hardest. Having someone available who knows exactly what the hell is going on could be lifeline of sorts at times.

Hank's gaze falls on Nick, who is watching the reunion with a distant smile on his lips. Shaena gives Rebecca's hands a squeeze and then turns and makes her way back to him. Her reappearance had definitely unsettled something in Nick. Or brought up something that had never really been settled. But he doesn't look troubled anymore. They exchange a few words; Nick says something that makes Shaena smile, then laugh. Then he draws her into a hug, her face in his shoulder. Just a hug, nothing more, and when they part, Shaena is still smiling.

Well… he could've laughed with relief; it looks like he won't have to face the awkwardness of getting friendly with buddies' 'complicated' exes. Nothing going on romantically between those two, at least. Hank catches her gaze and she joins him on the steps.

"Hank… It was nice getting to know you," she laughs quietly, "Though the circumstances could have been better." They exchange a quick hug.

"Listen… If you or Lily are ever having a hard time getting your heads around things – you can call."

"Thank you," she says meaningfully, then heads back over to her family.

Nick steps away from the car, and lets the Scott family pile in, Shaena at the wheel. Nick gives a little wave as she pulls out of the precinct parking lot. Lily returns it the back window. Hank joins him, and the two of them watch until Shaena's car disappears around the corner. Hank lands a light hand on his partner's shoulder.

"How you doing?"

He stares off into the distance a while longer, then fixes him with his familiar, amused look that makes a little more of the tension in Hank's shoulders melt away. "I'm... good."

"Let's go then. Captain'll probably have us banned from Portland permanently if we don't get the hell out of here soon."

"Including our own homes?"

"'Specially our own homes, man. He's a thorough guy." Hank hovers a bit as Nick clambers into the passenger seat of his car, fumbling one handedly with the seat belt. Eventually, Nick pauses to quirk an eyebrow at him.

"Need a hand?" Hank asks.

"You gonna carry me inside after, too?"

"Alright, wise ass." Hank shuts the door and sidles into the driver's seat. The first few minutes, they drive in silence.

"You and Shaena okay, then…?"

There's some rustling as Nick makes himself comfortable. "Yep."

"Yep?"

"Yep."

Hank shoots him a quick glance. "That's all you've got?"

Nick is looking relaxed, and chuckles, "We're fine… now. What else do you want me to say?"

Hank just smiles, and finds himself relaxing too. "Damn, I thought this week would never end... Bet you're glad it's all over too, huh?" Hank exits the freeway. "So, listen, tonight Monroe's coming over with Rosalee for beers, you want to come? I can swing by to get you around seven…. Nick?" Hank glances sideways at his partner's prolonged silence.

Nick is fast asleep in the passenger seat, mouth hanging open and snoring softly.

"Okay. No beers then." That's okay too.

* * *

_THE END_


End file.
